• 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


OF" 


Mrs.  SARAH  P.  WALS WORTH. 

Received  October,  1894. 
Accessions  No. 51 1 .....      Class  No. 


TJFIVBRSIT7 


.- 
' 


Lebanon 

Valley  of  Dov 

M"u  ,t  of  Beatitudes     ,., 

(ll.-ittin).  ..Capernaum, 


GENNESARET 

(IN   THE   TIME   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Sated. 


1'iain  of  6enne«aret. 

MAGDALA. 
TIBERIAS. 


M,.uut  Hormon. 
Bethsaida  (Julias). 

GADARA 


MEMOEIES 


GENNESARET. 


BT    THE 


EEV.  JOHN  R.  MACDTIFF, 

AUTHOR   OF  "MORNING  AND  NIGHT  WATCHES,"  "  WORDS  OF  JESUS,"  "  MIND  OF  JESUS,' 
"FO  TSTEP8  OF  ST.  PAUL"  "  KVENINO  INOENSE,"  "  WOODCUTTER  OF  LEBANON," 
GRKAT  JOURNEY,1'  "  MEMOKIES  OF  BETHANY,"  "  FAMILY  PRAYEKS,"  ETC. 


NEW    YOKK: 
ROBERT    CARTER    &   BROTHERS, 

No,    5  S  0    BROADWAY. 
1 80  9. 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF 

A  BELOVED  ONLY  SON, 

WITH  WHOSE  LATTER  DAYS 

NOT  A  FEW  OF  THESE  PAGES 

ARE 
TENDERLY  ASSOCIATED. 


PREFACE. 


THE  graphic  description  of  "  GENNESAEET  "  and 
"  The  Land  of  GENNESARET,"  in  Mr  Stanley's  recent 
work,  "  Sinai  and  Palestine"  suggested  the  fol- 
lowing pages. 

It  occurred  to  the  Author  that,  as  in  a  previous 
volume  (MEMORIES  OF  BETHANY),  he  might  group 
together  with  advantage  the  varied  scenes  which 
give  an  undying  interest  to  the  Shores  of  Tiberias, 
— interweaving  the  Scriptural  references  to  a  region 
which,  as  a  sanctuary  of  holy  thought,  will  yield  in 
interest  to  no  other  in  sacred  story. 

An  acknowledgment  has  been  made  in  foot-notes 
of  any  obligations  he  has  been  under  to  the  works 
and  thoughts  of  others.  For  topographical  details 
in  the  first  and  several  other  chapters,  he  has  been 
indebted  to  Mr  Stanley's  vivid  delineations  ;  also,  in 
the  course  of  Exposition,  to  the  admirable  and  sug- 


VI  PREFACE. 

gestive  Treatises  of  Trench  and  Alford  in  our  own 
country,  and  to  the  two  most  trustworthy  and  gifted 
masters  in  "  The  Fatherland  of  Thought,"  Stier  and 
Olshausen. 

In  committing  these  pages  to  the  press,  the  Writer 
has  fulfilled  the  wishes  of  many  friends,  who  desired 
for  themes  of  ordinary  Sabbath  ministration  a  more 
permanent  form.  To  such  they  may  serve  as  the 
Souvenir  of  a  period  on  which  he  will  ever  dwell 
with  hallowed  and  grateful  emotion. 

Deeply  conscious  how  inadequately  he  has  treated 
a  great  and  fascinating  subject,  he  nevertheless  sends 
forth  his  Volume  with  earnest  prayer  that  the  Great 
Head  of  the  Church  may  deign  to  bless  this,  as  He 
has  been  already  pleased  to  bless  former  lowly  offer- 
ings cast  by  the  same  hand  into  His  Treasury. 

December  1857.  i 


CONTENTS. 


L  THE  SCENE                                                       *          .           .  2 

IL    THE  HOME         . 10 

II.    THE  FISHERMEN 20 

IV.  THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION  ....  32 

V.     THE  INCURABLE  CURED 50 

VI.  THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE     ....  70 

VII.     THREE  PORTRAITS 92 

VIII.  THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED           ....  114 

IX.  THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED           .           ...  132 

X.  THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE             ....  150 

XL     THE  SPOILER  SPOILED 168 

XII.     THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER 190 

XIII.  THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE     .....  210 

XIV.  THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST 230 

XV.    THE  NIGHT  RESCUE 246 

XVI.    THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE 266 

XVII.    THE  DOOMED  CITY 290 

XVIII.    HEROISM 312 

XIX.     MARY  MAGDALENE 326 

XX.  THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHORE           ....  842 

XXI.    THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVB 868 

XXII.    THE  FAREWELL 171 


WflVBRSITir 


mtt. 


"What  went  ye  out  to  see 

O'er  the  rude  sandy  lea, 
Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  a  palm, 

Or  where  Gennesaret's  wave 

Delights  the  flowers  to  lave, 
That  o'er  her  western  slope  breathe  airs  of  balml 

All  through  the  summer  night, 

Those  blossoms  red  and  white, 
Spread  their  soft  breasts  unheeding  to  the  breeze, 

Like  hermits  watching  still 

Around  the  sacred  hill 
Where  erst  our  Saviour  watch 'd  upon  his  knees." 

"  The  land  of  Zabulon,  and  the  land  of  Nephthalim,  by  the  way  of  the  sea, 
beyond  Jordan,  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles :  The  people  which  sat  in  darkness  saw 
great  ILht ;  and  to  them  which  sat  in  the  region  and  shadow  of  death,  light  is 
sprung  up."— MATT,  iv,  15,  16.  ISAIAH  ix.  1,  2. 


[)?  THE 


THE  SCENE. 

THE  researches  of  modern  tra«  ilers  have  made  the  Shores  of 
GENNESAKET  well-nigh  as  familiar  to  us  as  those  of  our  own 
English  or  Scottish  la.k..s.  As  we  follow  in  thought  the  foot- 
steps of  our  Blessed  Lord  in  a  region  crowded,  above  all  others 
in  Sacred  Story,  with  imperishable  memories,  we  are  enabled  to 
picture  the  very  sky  on  which  He  gazed,  the  hills  with  their 
gray  and  red  limestone  sides  shelving  into  the  water,  the  sterile 
mountains  losing  themselves  in  the  eastern  desert  where  He 
prayed;  the  pearly  beach,  with  its  creeks  and  bays,  on  which 
the  clear  limpid  waves  murmured  of  old  —  as  they  murmur 
still.  We  can  think  of  the  lilies  to  which  He  pointed,  as  ex- 
celling the  glories  of  Solomon  —  the  fowls  of  heaven,  many 
arrayed  in  gorgeous  plumage,  from  which,  as  fed  by  His 
Father,  He  drew  a  lesson  of  unswerving  trust.  We  can 
picture  the  future  Teachers  of  the  world  mending  their  nets, 
or  mooring  their  boats  on  its  shingle  —  the  Jordan  hastening, 
as  to  this  hour,  down  to  its  rocky  gorges  —  the  Lebanon  range, 
and  the  nearer  serrated  peaks  of  Safed  bounding  the  northern 
view  —  the  snowy  summit  of  Hermon,  like  a  hoary  giant  over- 
looking all,  —  perhaps  the  feature  in  the  varied  panorama 
least  changed  since  the  eye  of  Incarnate  Glory  fell  on  its 
everlasting  snows.* 

*  No  attentive  reader  can  have  failed  to  note,  that  while  one  of  the  Evangelists 
(and  that  the  latest)  narrates  the  incidents  connected  with  the  Saviour's  history 
occurring  mainly  in  Jerusalem  and  Judea,  the  chief  portion  of  the  narrative 


4  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

The  geographical  position  of  the  Lake  of  Tiberias,  and  the 
relation  of  the  surrounding  district  to  the  rest  of  Palestine, 
claim  a  few  introductory  words,  ere  we  people  these  with  the 
living  characters  who  invest  them  with  an  undying  interest. 
Not  more  striking  was  the  difference,  a  hundred  years  ago, 
between  the  Lowlands  and  Highlands  of  Scotland  or  Wales, 
than  was  that,  in  the  time  of  our  Lord,  between  Judea  and 
Galilee.  The  outward  conformation  of  the  two  provinces  was 
different,  and  there  was  a  corresponding  contrast  also  in 
character  and  manners.  Parts  of  one  nation — Hebrews  of 
the  Hebrews — gathering  annually  at  the  same  Great  Feasts 
in  Jerusalem,  they  had,  in  point  of  fact,  resolved  themselves 
into  two  distinct  and  diverse  races.  The  intervening  country 
of  Samaria,  colonised  by  an  alien  tribe,  helped  to  perpetuate 
this  separation,  and  prevent  the  intercourse  which  otherwise 
they  might  have  enjoyed.  As  we  associate  the  heights  which 
bound  the  shores  of  Gennesaret  with  sterner  nature — moun- 
tains cleft  by  ravines  and  water- torrents,  leaving  in  their  torn 
and  dislocated  sides  the  mementos  of  volcanic  action — so, 
in  keeping  with  all  this  primitive  nature,  we  can  think  of  the 
Galileans  (at  all  events  for  many  years  preceding  the  Chris- 
tian era)  as  a  bold  and  turbulent  race,  far  removed  from  the 
civilising  influences  of  the  capital.  "  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles/' 
the  name  given  it  by  Isaiah  700  years  before  the  Christian 
era,  sufficiently  indicates  the  position  it  held  in  his  time,  as  a 
frontier  land  on  which  heathen  shadows  rested ;  and  when 

of  the  other  three  is  occupied  with  the  transactions  not  of  Judea  but  of  Galilee, 
and  more  especially  the  gracious  words  and  deeds  connected  with  its  Lake.  It 
is  only  at  the  close  of  all  that  they  leave  the  shores  of  Gennesaret  and  conduct 
us  to  the  capital.  As  Jerusalem  formed  the  focus  of  Julia's  inspired  pictures, 
so  the  ancient  "  Chinueroth  "  was  the  centre  and  fucus  of  theirs. 


THE  SCENE.  5 

he  still  further  speaks  of  its  inhabitants  in  the  passage 
which  heads  this  chapter,  as  "a  people  that  sat  in  darkness," 
and  that  dwell  "in  the  land  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  we  are 
left  to  picture  half- educated  boorish  peasantry  and  fisher- 
men, who  participated  in  few  of  those  longings  which  the 
southern  Hebrews  had,  for  the  advent  of  the  "  Desire  of  all 
nations."  Their  very  dialect  or  patois  (if  we  may  use  a  modern 
word)  was  peculiar.  Peter  had  lisped  it  from  his  infancy, 
and  it  convicted  him  in  the  palace  of  Caiaphas  of  being  a 
Galilean  accomplice  of  his  Lord — "  Thy  speech  bewrayeth 
thee."* 

But  though  the  Lake  of  Cliinneroih — save  its  casual 
mention  in  Num.  xxxiv.  1 1 ;  Josh.  xii.  3  ;  1  Kings  xv.  20 — is 
unconnected  with  any  Old  Testament  incidents,  and  isolated 
from  the  rest  of  the  Jewish  world,  its  aspect  as  well  as  its 
name  and  associations  change  with  the  dawn  of  the  New  Dis- 
pensation. When  the  Saviour  of  the  world  came  to  reside 
on  its  banks,  it  was  no  longer  the  secluded  spot  which  once 
it  was,  fenced  out  by  these  mountain  barriers  from  a  busy 
world.  It  had  become  the  scene  of  wondrous  life.  If  we  can 
again  venture  the  comparison — whatever  Gennesaret  may- 
have  been  in  the  times  of  the  early  monarchy,  it  had,  like  our 
own  wild  uplands  and  inland  Lochs,  emerged  from  seclusion. 
Eoyalty  had  not  only,  as  with  us,  redeemed  it  from  obscurity, 
but  studded  its  banks  with  Eoman  palaces,  and  its  waters 
with  Eoman  pleasure-boats.  The  second  Herod  had  built 
a  new  capital  on  its  shores  (Tiberias)  in  honour  of  his 
imperial  Lord ;  and  the  reckless  extravagance  which  that 
abandoned  prince  had  learned  at  Eome,  he  had  transferred  to 

*  Matt.  xxvi.  73. 


6  MEMOKIES  OP  GENNESAKET. 

the  shores  of  this  Judean  Lake.  Effeminate  loungers  and 
wasted  valetudinarians  crowded  to  its  famous  baths — Gentile 
slaves  thronged  the  villas  of  their  masters — heathen  tax-gather- 
ers were  found  seated  at  the  custom-houses  at  the  several  ports 
— while  a  constant  traffic  with  Damascus  (the  oldest  empo- 
rium of  trade  in  the  world)  kept  an  ever  busy  commerce  on 
this  inland  sea,  and  ministered  to  the  grasping  avarice  of  its 
rulers.  The  Apostle  fishermen  were  among  the  hundreds  in 
humbler  life  who  gained  their  livelihood  by  the  boats  and 
nets  which  studded  its  beach — the  plentiful  supply  of  fish 
which  swarmed  in  the  Lake  giving  its  name  to  one  of  the 
towns  on  its  shore — Bethsaida — "  House  of  fish."  Many  simi- 
lar hamlets  cast  their  shadows  in  its  waters,  or  nestled  under  the 
slopes  of  the  adjoining  hills;  while  one  portion  with  which  we 
may  afterwards  be  more  familiar — the  Plain  of  Gennesaret — 
was  considered  the  garden  of  Palestine,  and  with  its  hot 
spring  and  irrigating  streams  gave  a  return  to  the  husband- 
man unknown  elsewhere  in  that  nation  of  the  nations.  Well 
might  the  old  Jewish  writers  speak  enthusiastically  of  this 
beauteous  expanse  as  "  beloved  of  God  above  all  the  waters 
of  Canaan  ; "  and  extract  from  the  word  "  Gennesaret,"  as  its 
most  likely  derivation,  the  meaning  "Paradise  of  Perfec- 
tion." 

The  luxuriance  of  vegetation  on  its  banks,  and  mildness 
of  climate,  may  partly  be  accounted  for  from  the  deep 
depression  of  its  basin.  Though  not  to  the  same  extent, 
the  Galilean  sheet  of  water  partakes  of  the  strange  peculi- 
arity of  the  Dead  Sea,  in  being  far  below  the  level 
of  the  country.  No  transition  can  be  more  marked  than 
from  the  uplands  which  border  the  Lake  on  every  side,  down 


THE  SCENE.  7 

to  the  sultry  hollow  where  it  lies.  In  summer  the  heat  is 
intolerable.  But,  for  this  very  reason,  we  may  be  prepared 
for  early  and  profuse  vegetation  where  the  soil  favours. 
Olive  gardens  and  vineyards,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  in 
the  time  of  our  Lord,  crested  the  heights  which  are  now 
bare  and  treeless.  But  in  the  lower  regions,  tropical  plants 
still  spread  in  untrained  luxuriance.  Palms  mark  the 
old  site  of  Tiberias.  The  first  flowers  blooming  in  Galilee, 
with  their  pink  and  red  blossoms  flushing  the  Lake  margin, 
may  still  be  seen  from  the  very  spot  where  Jesus  spake  of 
the  lilies  of  the  field  as  weaving  a  richer  mantle  than  any 
Tyrian  loom ;  while  the  same  twisting  thorn  which  was 
taken  to  wreath,  in  after-times,  His  bleeding  brow,  may  be 
seen  hiding  itself  amid  the  rocks  which  cross  the  traveller's 
path.  Perhaps  nowhere  in  Palestine  does  the  "  Sower  go 
forth  to  sow  "  earlier  than  in  the  spot  where  Jesus  spake  His 
Sower  Parable — nowhere  does  the  reaper  gather  in  an 
earlier  harvest.  Its  mildness  may,  in  the  age  to  which  we 
refer,  have  made  it  more  a  winter  resort,  the  intense  heat 
sending  many  of  its  families  in  summer  to  the  cooling 
breezes  of  the  uplands.  This  we  know,  that  our  blessed 
Lord  Himself  generally  spent  the  summer  months  in  Judca, 
lingering  there  after  the  celebration  of  the  Passover,  and  revisit- 
ing Capernaum  and  its  neighbourhood  as  winter  approached, 
when  the  return  of  the  inhabitants  gave  him  a  fresh  oppor- 
tunity of  preaching  the  kingdom  of  God.* 

*  It  may  be  interesting  here  to  give  the  oldest  and  not  least  trustworthy 
picture  of  the  Scenes  which  are  now  describing.  "  This  Lake  of  Geunesareth 
is  so  called  from  the  country  adjoining  to  it.  Its  breadth  is  forty  fur- 
longs, and  its  length  one  hundred  and  forty ;  its  waters  are  sweet,  and  very 
agreeable  for  drinking,  for  they  are  finer  than  the  thick  waters  of  other 
fens;  the  lake  is  also  pure,  and  on  every  side  ends  directly  at  the  shores 


8  MEMORIES  OF  GEi\TNESAEET. 

Shall  we  pause,  before  proceeding,  to  ask,  what  of  Gen- 
nesaret  now  ?  Very  different  is  its  present  aspect.  It  has 
become  a  wreck  of  vanished  loveliness,  lapsed  into  its  old 
"  shadow  of  death."  "  The  light "  that  gleamed  on  its  waters 
is  quenched.  Turkish  misrule  and  delusion  are  supplanting 
holier  recollections.  Its  glittering  palaces  and  teeming  vil- 
lages— the  white- winged  messengers  of  commerce  or  pleasure 
that  studded  once  its  sparkling  waves — all  gone  !  Unchang- 
ing nature,  it  is  true,  in  her  indestructible  outlines,  is  still 
there  to  identify  it  as  the  hallowed  haunt  of  the  Lord  of 
Glory,  but  travellers  saunter  along  the  sandy  beach  amid 
ghastly  silence  and  loneliness.  Save  the  one  ruin  of  Migdol, 
nothing  is  left  to  recall  departed  greatness.  The  very  site  of 
Capernaum  is  disputed.  Its  doom  is  written  on  the  silent 

and  at  the  sand ;  it  is  also  of  a  temperate  nature  when  you  draw  it  up,  and  of  a 
more  gentle  nature  than  river  or  fountain  water,  and  yet  always  cooler  than  one 
could  expect  in  so  diffuse  a  place  as  this  is.  Now  when  this  water  is  kept  in  the 
open  air,  it  is  as  cold  as  that  of  snow;,  which  the  country  people  are  accustomed 
to  make  by  night  in  summer.  There  are  several  kinds  of  fish  in  it,  different 
both  to  the  taste  and  the  sight  from  those  elsewhere." — Josephus  Bell.  J.  iii. 
10,7. 

"  The  country,  also,  that  lies  over  against  this  lake,  hath  the  same  name  of  Gen- 
nesareth ;  its  nature  is  wonderful  as  well  as  its  beauty ;  its  soil  is  so  fruitful  that 
all  sorts  of  trees  can  grow  upon  it,  and  the  inhabitants  accordingly  plant  all 
sorts  of  trees  there;  for  the  temper  of  the  air  is  so  well  mixed,  that  it  agrees 
very  well  with  those  several  sorts.  Particularly  walnuts,  which  require  the  cold- 
est air,  flourish  there  in  vast  plenty;  there  are  palm-trees  also,  which  grow  best 
in  hot  air,  fig-trees  also  and  olives  grow  near  them,  which  yet  require  an  air 
that  is  more  temperate.  One  may  call  this  place  the  ambition  of  nature,  where 
it  forces  those  plants  that  are  naturally  enemies  to  one  another  to  agree  together; 
it  is  a  happy  contention  of  the  seasons,  as  if  every  one  of  them  laid  claim  to  this 
country ;  for  it  not  only  nourishes  different  sorts  of  autumnal  fruit  beyond  men's 
expectation,  but  preserves  them  a  great  while  ;  it  supplies  men  with  the  princi- 
pal fruits,  with  grapes  and  figs  continually,  during  ten  months  of  the  year.  Lnd 
the  rest  of  the  fruits  as  they  become  ripe  together,  through  the  whole  year,  for, 
besides  the  good  temperature  of  the  air,  it  is  also  watered  from  a  most  fertil 
fountain." — Josephus  Bell,  J.  iii.  10,  8. 


THE  SCENE.  9 

rocks,  and  murmured  by  the  restless  waves,  and  echoed  by 
the  Divine  Word.  Tangled  thickets  creep  in  wild  profusion 
over  bank  and  shore — and  the  three  or  four  tiny  boats  that 
ripple  the  waters,  seem  to  mock  the  old  picture  of  its  busy 
life! 

The  one  epoch  of  its  glory  seems  to  have  been  during  the 
first  Advent  of  the  Son  of  God.  What  may  it  not  yet  be, 
when  that  same  "  Sun  of  Righteousness  "  shall  again  visit  it 
with  "the  brightness  of  His  rising  ?" — when  its  vine-dressers 
shall  cleave  to  Him  who  is  the  true  Vine: — when  its  fisher- 
men shall  sing  hymns  to  His  glory  on  the  midnight  wave — 
and  when,  from  the  Christian  temples  which  throng  its 
shores,  the  Gospel  welcome  and  Hosannah  shall  be  heard 
from  ten  thousand  tongues,  "  Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord?"* 


*  Of  its  present  aspect  and  general  appearance,  Dr  Clarice  says : — 
"It  is  by  comparison  alone  that  any  due  conception  of  its  appearance  can  be 
communicated  to  the  minds  of  those  who  have  not  seen  it.  Speaking  of  it  com- 
paratively, it  may  be  described  as  longer  arid  finer  than  any  of  our  Cumberland 
or  Westmoreland  lakes,  although  it  be  perhaps  inferior  to  Loch  Lomond,  iu 
Scotland.  It  does  not  possess  the  vastness  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  although  it 
much  resembles  it  in  some  points  of  view.  In  picturesque  beauty  it  comes 
nearest  to  the  Lake  of  Locarno,  in  Italy,  although  it  be  destitute  of  anything 
similar  to  the  islands  by  which  that  majestic  piece  of  water  is  adorned.  It  ia 
inferior  in  magnitude,  and  perhaps  in  the  height  of  its  surrounding  mountains, 
to  the  Lake  Asphaltites ;  but  its  broad  and  extended  surface,  covering  the  bot- 
tom of  a  profound  valley,  surrounded  by  lofty  and  precipitous  eminences,  when 
added  to  the  impression  under  which  every  Christian  pilgrim  approaches  it, 
gives  to  it  a  character  of  unparalleled  dignity."— Clarke'*  Travels,  vol.  iv.,  p.  210. 


Few  are  the  tones  of  love  He  hears, 
Unpillow'd  oft  His  "weary  horwdj 
By  day  He  wrought,  by  night  He  prayed, 

His  way  was  paved  with  love  and  tears. 

'  And  leaving  Nazareth,  ha  came  and  dwelt  at  Capcmanrv,  wlutti  fo  u/xm  the 
,  coast."— Matt,  ir.  13. 


THE  HOME. 

THAT  is  always  a  momentous  era  in  the  history  of  every 
individual,  when  the  period  of  youth  is  over,  and  manhood 
goes  forth  to  grapple  with  tb  .  "fern  realities  of  life.  Exist- 
ence has  new  responsibilities — new  cares — new  hopes — new 
motives — new  trials — new  joys.  If  thf  character  was  plastic 
before,  and  only  m  on  ling  or  developing,  now  it  fast  consoli- 
dates. "The  Man'"'  takes  a  new  position.  He  selects  his 
own  associates — discovers  his  own  resources — manifests  his 
own  tastes  and  congenialities.  The  magnetic  needle,  trem- 
bling and  oscillating  before,  fixes  itself  now  to  its  pole ;  and 
there,  with  little  variation,  remains  till  he  goes  to  the  last 
and  longest  home  of  all. 

We  have  in  these  words  the  first  glimpse  which  the  Bible 
gives  us  of  the  Home  of  Jesus.  Around  that  name,  the 
earthly  Home  of  the  Lord  of  Glory,  how  many  hallowed  and 
sacred  thoughts  gather  !  Other  spots  already,  indeed,  claimed 
the  honour.  Egypt  was  for  a  time  His  home.  Thither,  in 
the  morning  of  that  mysterious  infancy,  He  fled  with  His 
parents,  till  a  message  from  Heaven  assured  of  a  safe  return. 
Nazareth  was  His  home.  There,  an  impenetrable  silence 
broods  over  thirty  years  of  wondrous  interest  to  all  time. 
We  dare  not  lift  the  veil  of  secrecy.  But  we  can  well 
picture  the  lovingness  of  that  holy  Childhood  and  Youth, 
unruffled  by  one  frown  or  passion  or  taint  of  selfishness — 


• 
12  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

a  Holy  Light  in  a  dwelling  of  peaceful  obscurity,  His  hands 
toiling,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe  they  did,  in  the  work- 
shop of  His  reputed  father,  thus  voluntarily  subjecting  Himself 
to  the  full  heritage  of  the  curse  of  toil.  We  can  picture  the 
wanderings  of  that  mysterious  boyhood  amid  the  olive  groves 
and  wooded  eminences  which  enclosed  the  Village.  We  can 
listen  in  thought  to  the  earliest  prayers  lisped  in  the  quiet 
homestead  or  on  the  silent  hills.  Rising  even  then  with 
elastic  step  "a  great  while  before  day/'  while  the  lower 
valley  was  still  sleeping  amid  the  shadows  of  early  dawn, 
the  "  Holy  child "  was  invoking  the  ear  of  His  Father  in 
Heaven. 

But  CAPERNAUM  is  invested  with  a  deeper  interest  still. 
Youth,  obscurity,  privacy,  are  left.  He  is  now  the  public 
Person — the  Teacher  sent  from  God — the  MAN.  Nazareth  was 
the  home  of  His  parents.  There  He  was  "  subject  to  them/' 
The  period  of  subjection  is  over.  He  has  completed  His 
beauteous  example — He  has  read  His  holy  lesson  to  boyhood 
and  youth.  Now  He  has  to  bear  a  more  advanced  and  dig- 
nified testimony.  Manhood  in  its  prime  is  invited  to  come 
to  the  shores  of  Oennesaret,  or  to  enter  one  of  the  lowly  por- 
ticos in  the  town  of  Capernaum,  and  gather  solemn  instruc- 
tion by  a  visit  to  the  HOME  OF  JESUS  ! 

"Master,  where  dwellest  thou?"  said  two  of  His 
disciple-followers  on  one  occasion.  "  Come  and  see/' 
was  His  answer.  He  invites  us  to  come  also.  We  can, 
indeed,  speak  nothing  regarding  that  lowly  dwelling;  we 
can  mark  no  stone  of  the  outer  building;  we  cannot  tell 
whether  the  blue  waves  of  the  Lake  murmured  under  its  lat 
tice ;  or  whether  it  looked  out  to  the  Vines  climbing  the 


m 

THE  HOME.  13 

slopes  which  hemmed  in  the  plain.  But  the  mere  locality 
is  nothing.  It  is  the  wondrous  Life  that  stamped  its  impress 
on  that  home,  and  that  reads  many  a  lesson  still  as  to  what 
the  home  and  the  life  together  should  be.  Come,  then,  let 
us  gather  with  all  reverence  around  this  model  "Home,"  where 
the  ideal  of  MAN,  the  root  and  flower  of  perfect  Humanity, 
mysteriously  unfolded  itsel£ 

Let  us  look  to  the  life  of  Jesus  in  its  twofold  aspect — 
social  and  individual,  public  and  private. 

I.  SOCIALLY. — The  character  of  the  Redeemer  partook  of  no 
asceticism.  The  Home  of  Jesus  was  in  the  cenire  of  Galilean 
and  (Jerusalem  excepted)  the  centre  of  Palestine  life.  He 
was,  in  this  respect,  unlike  His  great  forerunner,  John  the 
Baptist.  Rigid,  austere,  separating  himself  from  the  ameni- 
ties of  existence,  the  wilderness  and  solitudes  of  Judea  were 
his  abode.  He  shunned  society.  He  came  and  delivered  his 
message  to  teeming  multitudes  by  day,  and  then,  as  the  night 
shadows  gathered  around  the  Jordan,  he  plunged  back  into 
the  untrodden  wilds,  with  no  eye  to  look  kindly  on  him  but 
that  of  One,  whose  presence  to  him  was  more  than  all  human 
tenderness  could  be!  There  was  much  to  love,  at  least  to 
revere,  about  the  Harbinger  of  the  Messiah.  He  was  bold, 
honest,  intrepid,  sincere.  He  had  forsaken  all  for  the  sake 
of  his  message.  He  could  afford  no  time  to  fritter  away 
in  a  worthless  world.  It  took  him  the  livelong  night  to  get 
his  spirit  braced  up  for  the  solemn  embassy  of  the  morrow. 
With  the  prayer  still  lingering  on  his  lips,  he  went  forth 
with  the  old  burning  message  of  persuasion  and  terror — 
"  Repent  ye,  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand!" 


14  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

But  the  Home  of  Jesus  was  not  the  wilderness!      No 
secluded  nook  was  His  selected  dwelling — no  quiet  Palestine 
hamlet  where  He  could  dwell  in  mystic  loneliness,  refusing 
to  mingle  in  the  common  business  and  duties  of  life.     He 
pitched  His  own  tent  in  the  midst  of  human  tabernacles — 
mid   the   din    and    bustle   of   a  town — the   hum    of  busy 
industry  ever  around  Him — coming  in  contact  with  every 
description  of  character — rich  and  poor,  Jew  and  Gentile, 
bond    and    free,    noblemen,    centurions,    publicans   at   the 
receipt  of  custom,  sailors  and  bargemen  on  the  Lake,  rude 
Galilean  mountaineers  and  shepherds,  caravans  crossing  with 
motley  crowds  from  Syria  and  Persia  to  lower  Palestine  and 
Egypt.     He  met  them  all  in  free,  unrestrained  intercourse. 
At  one  time,  reading  to  the  Jews  in  their  synagogue.     At 
another,  gathering  the  multitude  at  their  spare  hours  by  the 
sea-side,  with  suggestive   nature  before  Him, — His   pulpit 
a  fisherman's  bark, — proclaiming  the  great  salvation.     At 
another,   seating  a  similar  crowd  on  the  rank  grass  at  the 
head  of  the  Lake,  He  would  miraculously  feed  them  with 
the   bread    which    perisheth,    and    unfold    spiritual    things 
from  the  carnal  type.      Nor  do  we  find  Him  in  any  way 
spurning  the  duties  and  delights  of  social  fellowship.     At 
one  time,  He  consecrates  with  His  presence  a  marriage-feast 
at  the  neighbouring  Cana.     At  another,  He  is  guest  in  a 
Pharisee's  house,  eating  with  publicans  and  sinners.    At  an- 
other, as  the  Jewish  Sabbath  sun  sinks  behind  Mount  Tabor, 
lo,  the  shores  and  highways  are  lined  with  eager  hundreds. 
The  sick  and  palsied,  the  blind  and  lame,  come  to  receive  the 
magic  touch,  and  listen  to  the  Omnipotent  word !     Where- 
ever  He  goes,  His  steps  are  tracked  with  mercy ;   misery, 


THE  HOME.  15 

in  every  form,  crouches  at  His  feet;  and  gratitude  bathes 
the  wondrous  Healer  with  its  tears. 

II.  Thus  much  for  His  outward,  public,  social  life — the 
stirring  scenes  of  ministry  and  miracle.  But  is  the  portrait- 
ure complete?  Does  the  revelation  of  the  ideal  of  Human 
perfection  end  here?  Turn  we  now  to  its  other  phase,  the 
remaining  complement  in  that  wondrous  character; — the 
PEIVATE  Life  of  Jesus. 

He  had,  as  each  of  His  people  have,  a  secret,  inner 
being,  in  conjunction  with  the  outer  and  social : — the  one  a 
reflex  of  the  other.  That  busy  world  on  the  one  side  of  the 
Sea  of  Tiberias,  witnessed  His  mighty  deeds,  heard  His 
weighty  words,  and  glowed  under  the  sunshine  of  holy 
smiles  and  joyous  friendships.  But  amid  these  boats  flit- 
ting up  and  down  the  lake,  one  may  ever  and  anon  be  seen 
(as  the  twilight  shadows  are  falling)  gently  traversing  its 
bosom;  and  when  moored  on  the  other  side,  a  Figure, 
companionless  and  alone,  is  ascending  the  rugged  steeps 
of  the  mountain,  until  the  veil  of  night  shuts  Him  out  from 
view.  When  the  lights  of  luxury  are  gleaming  on  the  oppo- 
site shores,  and  the  fishermen's  oars  are  heard  pursuing  their 
nightly  task,  the  Son  of  Man  and  Lord  of  Glory  is  seeking 
refreshment  and  repose  for  His  soul  in  divine  communion. 
With  the  deep  solitudes  of  nature  for  His  oratory,  He  "  con- 
tinues all  night  in  prayer  to  God"  He  is  left  "  alone/''  and  yet 
He  is  "not  alone/'  for  His  "God  and  Father  are  with  Him!" 

Most  beautiful  union  of  the  active  and  the  contemplative: 
public  duty  and  private  devotion;  ceaseless  exertion,  and 
needful  spiritual  cessation  and  repose;  the  outer  life  all 


16  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

given  to  God  and  man  ;  the  private  inner  life  sedulously  cared 
for  and  nurtured;  night  by  night,  and  morning  by  morning, 
the  sinless  and  spotless  One  fetching  down  heavenly  supplies, 
as  if  in  every  respect  He  were  "tempted  as  we  are/'  requiring 
equal  strength  for  duty  and  preparation  for  trial.  How  it  links 
us  in  sympathy  to  this  adorable  Eedeemer,  to  think  that  He 
had  bodily  as  well  as  mental  affinities  with  ourselves ;  that  He 
participated  with  us  (sin  only  excepted)  in  ALL  our  infirmities  I 

Do  we,  like  Him,  combine  the  two  great  elements  of  human 
character?  Are  our  public  duties,  the  cares,  and  business, 
and  engrossments  of  the  world,  finely  tempered  and  hallowed 
by  a  secret  walk  with  God?  Is  our  outer  life  distinguished 
like  His  by  earnest  diligence  in  our  varied  callings — love 
to  God  and  kindness  and  goodwill  to  man  throwing  a 
softened  halo  around  our  path ;  beneficence,  generosity,  ster- 
ling honour,  charity,  unselfishness  characterising  all  we  do? 

Is  our  inner  life  a  feeble  transcript  of  His  ?  If  the  world 
were  to  follow  us  from  its  busy  thoroughfares,  would  it  trace 
us  to  our  family  altars  and  our  closet  devotions?  Would  it- 
discover  in  our  secret  histories,  "  Sabbaths  of  the  soul/'  when 
wearied  with  the  toil  and  struggle  of  earth,  we  ascend  in 
thought  the  mount  of  Prayer,  and  in  these  holy  mental 
solitudes  seek  an  audience  of  our  Father  in  Heaven?  Action 
and  meditation,  I  repeat,  are  the  two  great  components  of 
Christian  life,  and  the  perfection  of  the  religious  character  is 
to  find  the  two  in  unison  and  harmony.  Not  like  Martha  of 
old,  all  bustle,  energy,  impulse,  and  finding  little  time  for 
higher  interests.  Nor  like  Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  wrapt 
in  devout  meditation,  indifferent  to  the  duties  and  shrinking 
from  the  struggles  of  life,  but  the  happy  intermingling  of 


THE  HOME.  17 

both.  In  one  word,  come  and  visit  the  Home  of  Jesus; — see 
that  noblest  of  combinations,  consuming  zeal  and  childlike 
teachableness — untiring  devotion  to  His  fellows,  hallowed  con- 
verse with  His  God.  Oh,  that  each  dwelling,  that  each  life, 
might  be  like  that !  Would  that,  in  order  to  make  a  "  model 
home/'  we  were  led  oftimes  to  cross  and  recross  in  thought 
Gennesaret's  lake.  Then  would  our  hearths  and  households 
more  frequently  be  like  Edens,  blooming  in  a  desert  world — 
miniatures  of  the  great  Heavenly  Home,  where  still  there  will 
be  the  beautiful  combination  of  untiring  energy  in  God's 
service,  and  of  peaceful  rest  and  repose  in  God's  love. 

Let  us  only  add,  as  one  out  of  many  practical  lessons  this 
subject  suggests,  a  word  of  encouragement  for  the  guiltiest. 

Where  did  this  Blessed  Lord  of  Glory  establish  His 
home?  What  portion  of  the  wide  world,  or  of  the  sacred 
land,  did  He  select  during  the  three  most  eventful  years  of 
earth's  history  for  His  most  frequent  residence?  It  was 
"  the  land  of  darkness;"  it  was  "the  region  of  the  shadow 
of  death."  It  was  among  a  people  who,  in  the  most  impres- 
sive and  significant  of  Bible  figures,  are  represented  as  u  sit- 
ting" in  that  darkness;  content  to  remain  in  guilty  apathy 
and  unconcern,  heeding  not  the  gloom  around  them,  and  the 
appalling  shadows  gathering  overhead.  Yet,  He  spurned 
them  not.  No;  He,  "The  Light/' entered  this  thick  Cim- 
merian darkness.  Incarnate  truth  came  into  the  midst  of 
error.  Incarnate  wisdom  settled  in  the  midst  of  ignorance. 
Life  came  and  settled  in  the  abodes  of  death  ! 

What  does  this  teach?  but  that  none  need  despair.  Those 
who  till  this  hour  have  been  "  sitting  in  darkness" — the 
darkness  of  guilt,  and  sin,  and  miserable  estrangement  from 


I  8  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

God — may  listen  to  the  voice  of  Jesus  saying — "  I  am 
the  Light  of  the  world,  he  that  followeth  Me  shall  not  walk 
in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the  light  of  life." 

And  not  only  do  we  here  learn  that  Jesus  comes  to  the 
very  worst,  and  is  willing  to  enlighten  them,  but  that  He 
can  change  the  very  worst — that  He  doss  enlighten  them. 
The  Sun  of  Righteousness  not  only  arose  on  Galilee,  but  He 
rose  "  with  healing  in  His  beams."  "  Its  common  people 
heard  Him  gladly/'  His  best  converts,  his  truest  and 
trustiest  friends  were  from  the  ports,  and  fishing-boats,  and 
villages  around  Gennesaret.  Oh,  if  He  effected  such  a  change 
on  them,  there  is  no  room  for  despondency!  "  That  is  the  true 
light  which  lighteth  every  one  that  conieth  into  the  world/' 
He  is  willing  to  take  up  His  home  in  every  soul — though 
that  soul  be  as  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  "  God, 
who  commanded  the  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  is  willing 
to  shine  into  that  heart  with  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of 
the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."  Whatever 
your  darkness  may  be,  Christ  can  relieve  it;  Christ  can 
dispel  it.  If  your  heart  be  as  a  Gennesaret  swept  with 
storms,  He  will  come  and  whisper  in  your  ears,  as  He  did 
of  old,  His  calming  words — "  Peace,  be  still." 

The  Home  of  Jesus,  His  outer  home,  at  Capernaum,  is  but 
a  memory  of  the  past ;  not  one  stone  has  been  left  upon 
another  that  has  not  been  thrown  down.  But  He  has  a 
more  enduring  home,  which  human  hands  cannot  anni- 
hilate, and  time  cannot  destroy.  "Thus  saith  the  high  and 
lofty  One  who  inhabiteth  eternity,  I  dwell  in  the  high  and 
in  the  holy  place;  with  him  also  that  is  humble  and  of  a 
contrite  spirit !  " 


lit 


'Tis  not  upon  a  tranquil  lake 

Our  pleasant  task  we  ply, 
Where  all  along  our  glist'ning  wake 

The  softest  mooubeams  lie ; 

Where  rippling  wave  and  dashing  oar, 

Our  midnight  chant  attend, 
Or  whisp'ring  palm-leaves  from  the  shore 

With  midnight  silence  blend. 

Full  many  a  dreary  anxious  hour, 

We  watch  our  nets  alone, 
In  drenching  spray  and  driving  shower, 

And  hear  the  night-birds  moan. 


"  A  nd  it  came  to  pass,  that,  as  the  people  pressed  upon  him  to  hear  the  word 

of  God,  he  stood  by  the  lake  of  Gennesaret Now  when  he  had  left 

speaking,  he  said  unto  Simon,  Launch  out  into  the  deep,  and  let  down  your 
nets  for  a  draught.  And  Simon  answering  said  unto  him,  Master,  we  have 
toiled  all  night,  and  have  taken  nothing :  nevertheless  at  thy  word  I  will  let 
down  tiie  net."— LUKE  Y.  1,  4,  5. 


THE  FISHERMEN. 

THE  first  Memory  of  Gennesaret  is  appropriately  connected 
with  a  fishing-scene  in  its  inland  sea.  It  must  have  been  now 
about  the  end  of  November  or  beginning  of  December,  when 
the  sultry  heat  of  summer  had  disappeared ;  when  the  trees 
were  either  bared  of  their  leaves,  or  seared  with  autumnal 
tints,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  was  silent.  Our  Blessed 
Lord  had  recently  returned  to  His  native  Galilee,  after  a 
summer  absence  in  Judea;  and  several  eventful  months 
were  now  to  be  spent  on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  ere  the  next 
passover,  in  March  or  April,  summoned  Him  again  to  the 
capital. 

As  He  was  now  walking  alone  along  the  white  sand  that 
fringed  the  beach,  we  may  suppose  it  to  have  been  at  that 
morning  hour  when  nature  was  waking  up  again  to  life  and 
energy; — the  wonted  traffic  had  been  resumed  in  the  little 
seaport  of  Capernaum,  and  the  fishermen,  who  had  been  out 
the  livelong  night,  were  returning  to  the  nearest  landing- 
point  with  their  spoil.  Pour  of  these  seafarers,  Andrew, 
Peter,  John,  and  James,  had  reached  the  shore.  They  had 
been  unsuccessful  in  their  labours ;  weary  and  jaded,  they 
were  in  the  act  of  washing  their  nets  before  repairing  to 
their  hamlets  for  refreshment  and  rest.  But  One  who,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  was  no  stranger  to  them,  had  been  noting 
their  unrecompensed  toil.  There  was  a  deep  meaning  and 
reason,  which  they  knew  not  at  the  time,  for  the  dispiriting 


22  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

results  of  their  midnight  industry,  but  which  was,  ere  long, 
to  be  made  manifest.  Meanwhile,  however,  Simon  is 
accosted  by  a  voice  whose  music  he  was  often  in  future  to 
hear.  His  Lord  "as  one  that  serveth"  begs  from  the  lowly 
fisherman  the  accommodation  of  his  boat,  that  he  might 
make  it  a  platform  from  which  to  address  his  first  Genne- 
saret  auditory  —  a  throng  of  ardent  followers  who  had 
gathered  on  the  sea-beach,  eager  to  listen  to  His  teachings. 

"We  may  realise  the  scene.  The  Lake,  so  often  fretted  with 
storms,  exposed  to  sudden  gusts  coming  sweeping  down 
the  ravines  of  the  mountains,  was  now  hushed  into  a  dead 
calm.  Tree  and  rock,  fishing-hamlet  and  villa,  were  mirrored 
in  its  quiet  waters.  Hushed,  too,  was  the  dense  promiscuous 
multitude  that  crowded  on  the  shore ;  while  the  great  object 
of  their  eager  curiosity — Jesus  of  Nazareth — sat  in  meek 
majesty  in  Peter's  fishing-boat,  about  to  speak  the  words  of 
eternal  life  I 

Dare  we  picture  to  ourselves  the  expression  of  that  god- 
like countenance  ?  Accustomed  as  we  are  to  think  of  Him 
as  the  ideal  of  human  excellence,  and  in  outward  form  as 
well  as  inward  loveliness,  "  fairer  than  the  children  of  men/' 
we  may  venture  to  realise  some  feeble  image  of  that  por- 
traiture, while  yet  the  happy  memories  cf  peaceful  Nazareth 
were  hovering  around  Him,  and  ere  a  woe-worn  path  had 
furrowed  the  brow  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows  with  the  lineaments 
of  predicted  sadness.  It  was  the  sunny  morning  of  a  dark  and 
troubled  life-day.  The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  as  He  arose  on 
this  valley  and  shadow  of  death,  had  no  spot,  no  murky 
cloud  resting  on  His  disc,  foreboding  the  darkness  that  was 
to  shroud  His  setting.  He  was  "  as  a  bridegroom  coming 


THE  FISHERMEN.  23 

forth  out  of  his  chamber,  and  rejoicing  like  a  strong  man  to 
run  his  race."  With  grace  poured  into  His  lips,  this  " Chief est 
among  ten  thousand  " — this  "  altogether  Lovely  one  " — pro- 
ceeds to  unfold  the  great  revelation  for  which,  during  four 
thousand  years,  the  world  had  waited  in  anxious  expectancy. 
It  was  a  momentous  day  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  It 
was  the  inauguration  of  the  first  noble  band  of  missionaries 
— an  ordination  scene  and  ordination  sermon — the  setting 
apart  of  under  shepherds  by  the  Great  Shepherd,  to  "  feed  the 
flock  of  God"  which  He  was  about  to  "  purchase  with  His  own 
blood." 

We  cannot  pronounce  when  and  where  the  first  introduc- 
tion took  place  between  Jesus  and  these  future  teachers  of 
the  world.  May  He  not  possibly,  in  the  days  of  His  youth, 
when  living  in  mysterious  seclusion  in  the  not  far-distant 
Nazareth,  have  stood  on  the  shores  of  Gennesaret,  and,  as 
the  young  fishermen  of  Bethsaida  were  helping  their  fathers 
to  adjust  their  nets,  may  they  not  have  unconsciously  beheld 
in  the  stranger  their  future  Master  and  Lord?  We  can 
form,  with  greater  certainty,  such  a  conjecture  at  a  later 
period ;  we  have  in  one  passage  an  indirect  intimation  that 
Capernaum  formed  a  rendezvous  for  the  caravan  in  north 
Galilee,  in  going  up  to  Jerusalem  to  observe  the  paschal 
feast.*  If  so,  might  not  these  youths,  who  were  afterwards 
to  be  linked  in  so  holy  a  relation,  love  to  group  and  pitch 
their  tents  together  in  that  sacred  pilgrimage  ?  Might  they 
not  travel  onwards  singing  their  psalms,  under  the  clear 
light  of  moon  and  stars,  in  their  nightly  journey  —  the 
Galilean  fishermen  little  dreaming  that  some  of  those  very 

*  John  ii.  12. 


24  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

songs  they  chanted  were  to  the  praise  of  the  wondrous  Being 
who,  in  human  form,  walked  at  their  side  ? 

But  be  this  as  it  may,  we  know  at  all  events,  that  not 
many  months  before  the  transaction  here  recorded,  they  had 
met  Him  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  probably  after  the 
celebration  of  the  passover,  when,  on  returning  to  their  native 
lake,  they  paused  to  listen  to  the  Baptist's  stirring  words. 
The  Great  Messiah,  of  whom  he  bare  witness,  was  then 
pointed  out  to  them.  They  hailed  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as 
their  Lord  and  Master,  and  cast  in  their  lot  with  Him  as 
disciples.  Whether  they  met  during  the  brief  intervening 
period  we  cannot  tell.  But  we  may  surely  well  believe  that 
oftimes  would  these  four  fishermen  beguile  their  lone  mid- 
night hours  on  the  lake,  by  discoursing  of  Him  whom  His 
great  Forerunner  had  so  recently  pointed  out  to  them  as  "  the 
Lamb  of  God/'  Could  Peter  forget  the  penetrating  omni- 
science which  had  even  then  scanned  his  own  character,  and 
anticipated  the  lights  and  shadows  in  his  ardent  tempera- 
ment?* Could  Andrew  and  John  forget  the  hallowed 
evening  converse,  when,  at  His  own  gracious  invitation,  He 
bade  them  welcome  to  His  temporary  abode,  and  from  four 
o'clock  till  the  night  shadows  closed  around  them,  caused 
their  hearts  to  burn  within  them?  Moreover,  if  they  had 
never  personally  met  since,  their  confidence  in  His  power  and 
in  the  divinity  of  His  mission  must  have  been  strengthened 
and  confirmed  by  the  miracle  recently  performed  on  the 
nobleman's  son  at  Capernaum,  all  the  more  impressive  that 
it  was  by  the  power  of  a  distant  word  at  Cana,  that  the 
dying  youth  had  been  raised  to  life.  It  must  have  been,  at 

*  John  i.  42. 


THE  FISHEKMEN.  25 

all  events,  now  with  a  joyful  surprise,  while  washing  their 
nets,  that  His  longed-for  voice  was  heard.  How  would  the 
lost  labour  of  that  midnight  be  forgotten,  and  the  thought 
of  fatigue  banished,  when  they  beheld  Him  once  more  stand- 
ing on  the  shore  ready  to  unfold  to  them  and  to  the  multitudes 
the  mysteries  of  His  kingdom  !  With  what  delight  would  they 
gather  around  to  listen  to  the  gracious  words  which  pro- 
ceeded out  of  His  mouth  ! 

Let  us  pause  at  this  point  in  the  sacred  story,  and  gather 
a  few  practical  lessons. 

I.  Observe  here,  how  God  honours  worldly  industry,  and 
hallows  His  own  appointed  heritage  of  toil. 

These  fishermen,  though  enrolled  among  the  disciples  of 
Jesus,  did  not  on  that  account  forsake  their  honest  callings, 
as  if  discipleship  and  daily  work  were  incongruous.  No ; 
with  all  the  hallowed  recollections  of  that  day  at  Bethabara 
and  the  Jordan,  no  sooner  did  they  reach  Bethsaida,  than, 
girt  in  their  rough  hides,  they  were  out  night  after  night 
on  the  sea,  patiently  waiting  subsequent  communications  of 
their  Lord's  will.  And  now,  when  He  meets  them  again, 
when  that  loving  Voice  is  once  more  heard,  how  are  they 
engaged?  Still  at  their  work — their  hands  ministering  to 
their  necessities — standing  knee-deep  in  the  water,  in  the 
shadow  of  their  fishing-boats,  "  washing  their  nets."  What 
does  all  this  tell  us,  but  that  Christ  honours  and  consecrates 
daily  industry.  He  would  here,  as  elsewhere,  proclaim  the 
beautiful  harmony  between  the  most  laborious  ardour  in  our 
several  earthly  employments  and  religious  earnestness ;  that  the 
world's  dullest  tasks  and  most  drudging  toil  can  be  baptized 


26  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

and  hallowed  with  the  new-born  spiritual  element;  and  that, 
while  men  may  be  "  not  slothful  in  business,  they  may  be 
fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 

II.  We  learn  that  Jesus  gradually  prepares  His  people 
for  service  and  trial. 

As  in  mental  training,  so  in  spiritual,  there  is  an  edu- 
cation— a  gradual  progressive  discipline.  They  are  brought 
to  their  exalted  attainments  in  grace  —  the  consecrated 
heights  of  His  kingdom — not  by  some  sudden  or  mira- 
culous elevation,  but  step  by  step.  It  is  "first  the  blade, 
then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear/'  The  fisher- 
men of  Bethsaida  may  have  received,  as  we  have  already 
conjectured,  the  first  hallowed  impressions  from  casual  meet- 
ings with  the  young  Nazareth  Pilgrim  in  their  journeys  to 
the  city  of  solemnities ;  or  the  earliest  seed  of  the  kingdom 
might  have  been  more  recently  planted  by  the  teachings  of 
the  Baptist.  This  had  been  still  further  nurtured  by  a 
solemn  personal  interview  with  their  Lord.  Months  had 
elapsed  to  allow  all  these  to  take  root.  They  had  been  left 
to  themselves  during  this  intervening  period  to  a  secret 
work  of  faith  and  prayer.  And  now,  when  love  has  been 
deepened,  and  faith  strengthened,  He  demands  loftier  services; 
imposes  heavier  responsibilities.  The  Disciples  are  to  become 
Apostles.  The  nets  and  boats  of  Galilee  are  to  be  left  for 
the  mightiest  embassy  ever  intrusted  to  human  hands.  There 
may  be  exceptions,  and  there  are  exceptions  to  this  great  rule. 
A  persecutor  may  be  struck  down,  and  in  a  moment  trans- 
formed into  an  apostle.  A  felon  may  be  arrested  by  grace  amid 
the  agonies  of  crucifixion,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  be 


THE  FISHERMEN.  27 

translated  from  a  crimiiiars  death  to  a  believer's  crown. 
But  God's  processes  in  the  spiritual  economy  are,  generally 
speaking,  gradual  and  progressive.  The  temple  rises  stone 
by  stone.  Nicodemus-like  we  have  to  grope  our  way  to 
higher  spiritual  manifestations,  te  higher  faith,  higher  duties, 
higher  grace.  Were  it  otherwise,  it  would  contradict  the 
Divine  method  of  working.  It  would  unteach  the  oft-recorded 
lesson  in  that  mighty  volume  of  parables,  where  growth  is 
never  sudden,  but  slow — silent — almost  imperceptible  :  the 
sapling  hardening  into  the  oak  before  it  can  wrestle  with 
the  storm ;  the  child  creeping  before  it  can  walk,  spell- 
ing its  way  upwards  through  successive  stages  of  mental 
progress.  God  himself  more  than  once,  indeed,  employs 
this  very  same  image  regarding  His  people.  He  acts  a 
parent's  part  in  guiding  the  tottering  steps  of  feeble  spiritual 
infancy — "  dandling  them  on  His  knees  " — "  comforting  them 
as  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth" — "bearing  them  on 
His  shoulders,  as  a  man  beareth  his  own  son  that  serveth 
him "  —  "  leading  them  about,  instructing  them,  keeping 
them  as  the  apple  of  His  eye;"  till  at  length,  strong  in  the 
manhood  of  vigorous  faith,  they  "  mount  up  on  eagle's  wings." 

III.  Learn  in  our  seasons  of  trial  and  despondency  never 
to  despair. 

Peter  had  been  toiling  all  night,  and  nothing  had  been 
caught.  But  his  Lord  gives  the  word — "  Launch  forth  into 
the  deep,  and  let  down  your  nets  for  a  draught."  The  other 
replies  by  telling  of  their  want  of  success — that  "  all  night " 
(the  best  and  most  likely  time  for  catching)  they  had 
laboured  in  vain ;  but,  addressing  Jesus  as  "  Master  "  (evi- 


28  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

dently  shewing  the  relation  in  which  he  already  stood  to 
Him),  he  adds  in  simple  faith  and  submission  to  a  will  he 
had  been  taught  to  love — "  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word  I  will 
let  down  the  net."  The  result  was  the  enclosure  of  such  "a 
multitude  of  fishes  that  the  net  brake." 

Ah !  when  was  the  soul  ever  disappointed  which  followed 
the  Lord  fully?  How  often,  in  our  night-seasons  of 
despondency  and  trial,  are  we  prone,  in  our  short-sighted  folly, 
to  exclaim,  "All  these  things  are  against  me  ?"  How  often  do 
we  feel,  in  spiritual  experience,  as  if  all  effort  in  Christian 
attainment  were  worse  than  hopeless?  The  heavens  have 
become  as  brass,  and  the  earth  as  iron — our  prayers  are 
unavailing— ordinances  are  unblest — sanctuary  wells  are 
without  water — our  sun  is  wading  amid  clouds  ;  The  net  of 
faith  is  let  down  amid  the  promises  of  God  ;  but  unable  to  ap- 
propriate them,  we  are  ready  to  say  amid  this  long  night  of 
spiritual  toil,  "Surely  my  Lord  hath  forsaken  me,  and  my 
God  hath  forgotten  me."  Nay !  nay !  pray  on — labour  on — 
trust  on — "They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall  renew  their 
strength ! "  Resolve,  with  Peter,  "  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word, 
Blessed  Saviour  !  I  will  launch  forth  once  more."  I  will  let 
down  my  net  into  this  dark,  deep,  unfathomable  sea. 
"  Though  thou  slay  me  yet  will  I  trust  in  Thee."  In  our- 
selves, Lord,  we  are  helpless,  hopeless,  weak,  perishing ;  but 
at  Thy  word  we  proceed.  Lord,  what  wouldst  Thou  have  us 
to  do  ?  Our  wills  we  would  resolve  into  Thine  :  Thy  will  is 
always  the  best.  We  shall  not  arraign  the  appointments  of 
unerring  rectitude.  Even  though  at  times  we  are  led  to 
adopt  the  words  of  the  prophet — "  I  have  laboured  in  vain ; 
I  have  spent  my  strength  for  nought  and  in  vain;"  with 


THE  FISHERMEN.  29 

him  can  we  add,  "  Yet  surely  my  judgment  is  with  the  Lord, 
and  my  work  with  my  God."  Even  if  carrying  a  cross  be 
required,  fresh  launching  forth  into  the  deeps  and  midnights 
of  trial,  we  shall  let  down  our  nets,  assured  in  the  end  of  a 
glorious  recompense.  For  have  we  not  His  own  recorded 
promise  ? — "  Then  shall  we  know,  if  we  follow  on  to  know 
the  Lord.  His  going  forth  is  prepared  as  the  morning,  and 
He  shall  come  unto  us  as  the  rain ;  as  the  latter  and  former 
rain  unto  the  earth." 

Let  us  seek  to  value  more  and  more  that  precious  Word. 
The  multitudes  on  Gennesaret's  shore,  and  the  disciple  in 
the  boat,  who  with  fond  eagerness  listened,  and  with  joyful 
alacrity  obeyed,  read  to  us  solemn  lessons.  Of  the  one  it  is 
said,  "They  pressed  on  Him  to  hear  the  word  of  God;"  of 
the  other,  that,  triumphing  over  carnal  doubts  and  reason- 
ings, he  exclaimed,  "  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word." 

Oh,  what  a  blessed  formula  for  us  !  "  This  path  of  mine 
is  dark,  mysterious,  perplexing ;  nevertheless,  at  Thy  word 
I  will  go  forward.  This  trial  of  mine  is  cutting,  sore  for 
flesh  and  blood  to  bear.  It  is  hard  to  breathe  through  a 
broken  heart,  "Thy  will  be  done."  But,  nevertheless,  at 
Thy  word  I  will  say,  "  Even  so,  Father ! "  This  besetting 
habit  or  infirmity,  or  sin  of  mine,  is  difficult  to  crucify.  It 
has  become  part  of  myself, — a  second  nature ;  to  be  severed 
from  it  would  be  like  the  cutting  off  of  a  right  hand,  or  the 
plucking  out  of  a  right  eye.  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word,  I 
will  lay  aside  every  weight ;  this  idol  I  will  utterly  abolish. 
This  righteousness  of  mine  it  is  hard  to  ignore ;  all  these 
virtues,  and  amiabilities,  and  natural  graces,  it  is  hard  to 
believe  that  they  dare  not  in  any  way  be  mixed  up  in  the 


SO  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESAEET. 

matter  of  my  salvation ;  and  that  I  am  to  receive  all  from 
first  to  last  as  the  gift  of  God,  through  Jesus  Christ  my  Lord. 
''  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word,  I  will  count  all  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  His  knowledge." 

Reader  !  let  the  Word  of  Christ  dwell  in  you  richly  !  Let 
it  be  the  man  of  your  counsel ;  the  ultimate  court  of  appeal 
in  every  perplexity.  If  your  own  proud  reason  or  self-will, 
or  corrupted  nature  and  blinded  conscience,  should  dictate 
an  opposing  line  of  procedure,  let  this  lofty  determination 
settle  and  silence  all  dubiety — "  Nevertheless,  at  Thy  word." 
Sit  as  a  meek  disciple  under  this  infallible  Arbiter.  Silence 
the  temptations  of  the  great  Adversary  as  your  Lord  silenced 
them  before  you,  by  the  rebuke,  "Get  thee  behind  Me,  Satan — It 
is  written/'  And  when  the  Sabbath  comes  round,  be  it  yours, 
like  the  crowd  on  Gennesaret's  shores,  to  go  to  the  sanctuary, 
eagerly  thirsting  for  the  Word  of  eternal  life ; — not  the 
words  of  frail  mortals,  worms  of  the  dust,  but,  despising 
all  the  excellency  of  man's  wisdom,  seeking  only  to  have 
declared  unto  you  the  whole  counsel  of  God.  Be  earnest  in 
prayer,  that  He  may  send  forth  His  light  and  His  truth  to 
lead  you  and  guide  you.  Then  shall  a  Saviour  God  be  in- 
visibly present  by  His  spirit,  to  bless  and  lighten,  to  glad- 
den and  refresh  your  souls  ;  and  the  Beatitude,  intended  for 
all  time  and  for  every  age  of  the  Church,  will  be  made  good 
in  your  experience  : — "  Blessed  are  the  people  who  know  the 
joyful  sound.  They  shall  walk,  0  Lord,  in  the  light  of  Thy 
countenance/' 


IV. 

Call  mib 


Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 

All  to  leave  and  follow  Thee ; 
Naked,  poor,  despised,  forsaken, 

Thou  from  hence  my  all  shalt  be ; 

Perish  every  fond  ambition, 

All  I  've  sought,  or  hoped,  or  known, 
Yet  how  rich  is  my  condition, 

God  and  heaven  are  still  my  own. 

"  And  Jesus  said  unto  Simon,  Fear  not;  from  henceforth  thou  shalt  catch 
men.  And  when  they  had  brought  their  ships  to  land  they  forsook  all  and 
followed  him."— LUKE  v.  10 ;  MATT,  iv.  19  i  MARK  i.  17-21. 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION. 

THE  Sermon  to  the  multitudes  we  have  spoken  of  in  th*» 
preceding  chapter  being  finished,  the  "Consecration  service/* 
the  all-absorbing  event  of  that  memorable  hour,  begins. 

How  is  it  conducted?  What  is  the  Saviour's  mode  of 
illustrating  solemn  truths  which  are  to  have  their  bearings 
on  the  remotest  ages  of  the  Avorld  ?  In  that  great  Temple 
of  Nature — the  everlasting  mountains  its  pillars — the  arch- 
ing sky  its  roof — the  Lord  alike  of  nature  and  of  grace  dis- 
courses to  His  disciples  and  to  the  Church  of  the  future  by 
means  of  an  acted  parable.  He  who,  at  a  later  period  of  His 
ministry,  cursed  a  fruitless  fig-tree  on  the  way  to  Bethphage, 
in  order  that  it  might  be  to  all  time  a  standing  memorial  of 
the  guilt  of  hypocritical  profession,  now  makes  the  humble 
callings  of  the  fishermen  of  Galilee  the  medium  for  conveying 
to  their  own  minds,  lessons  of  faith,  and  confidence,  and  hope. 
He  takes  the  nets  they  were  washing,  as  exponents  of  these 
great  truths,  and  prepares  to  make  them  "  Fishers  of  men/'  * 

At  the  bidding  of  their  Master,  after  their  night  of  unsuc- 

*  "  'A/z^i'/SAjjorpoi',  from  afi0t/3dAA&>,  do.s  not  occur  elsewhere  in  the  New 
Testament.  It  signifies  a  double  net  of  considerable  size.  While  &LKTVOV 
means  a  net  of  smaller  size,  used  either  for  hunting  or  fishing." — Olshamen, 
Vol.  i.,  p.  180. 

"  The  Lord  clothes  His  promise  in  the  language  of  that  art  which  was  familiar 
to  Peter.  The  fisherman  is  to  catch  men,  as  David,  the  shepherd,  taken  from 
amid  the  sheepfolds,  is  to  feed  them.  Origen  follows  this  further  up,  and  finds 
the  same  prophecy  of  his  future  vocation  ia  the  case  of  Paul — the  tentmaker 
ehall  become  the  maker  of  everlasting  tabernacles."—  Trench  on  the  3firadest 
pp.  13-1-5.  See  also  Stier,  Vol.  i.,  p.  87. 

C 


34  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

cessf  ul  toil,  they  had  once  more  launched  forth  into  the  deep. 
The  nets  had  been  lowered — the  unrewarded  efforts  of  the 
long  midnight  hours  were  more  than  recompensed.  So 
wondrous  was  the  capture,  that  they  had  to  beckon  to 
Andrew  and  John  to  come  to  their  assistance  from  the 
adjoining  pier.  The  net  was  discharged  of  its  contents,  and 
both  vessels  were  filled  to  sinking  with  the  unprecedented 
spoil.  It  is  the  sequel  of  the  narrative  which  is  now  to 
engage  us,  in  which  three  points  invite  our  attention. 

I  SIMON  PETER'S  EXCLAMATION. — "  When  Simon  Peter 
saw  it,  he  fell  down  at  Jesus'  knees,  saying,  Depart  from 
me  ;  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  0  Lord" 

The  feelings  of  Peter  form  the  natural  workings  of  every 
soul  which,  conscious  of  its  sinfulness,  has  been  brought  into 
visible  contact  with  its  God.  He  had  known  of  Jesus  before 
as  the  Holy  Youth — the  Teacher  sent  from  God — the  Prophet 
of  whom  the  Baptist  testified  that  He  was  "  mightier  than  he." 
But  here  he  felt  the  consciousness  of  a  more  august  Presence 
still.  He  sees  standing  before  him  the  Lord  of  creation,  the 
owner  of  "  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth  through 
the  paths  of  the  sea/'  His  feelings  are  those  of  trembling  Jacob. 
— "  Surely  the  Lord  is  in  this  place ;  and  I  knew  it  not."  The 
finite  felt  himself  in  contact  with  the  Infinite.  Faith,  IOVA. 
adoring  reverence,  and  intermingled  with  all,  a  profound  abas- 
ing sense  of  worthlessness  and  guilt,  makes  this  impulsive 
apostle  humble  himself  in  the  dust.  In  tremulous  dread,  he 
is  ready  to  say  with  Pilgrim  Israel,  as  they  cowered  under 
the  blazing  peaks  of  Sinai,  "  Let  not  God  speak  with  us,  lest 
we  die/'* 

*  See  Trench,  p.  133. 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION.  35 

Very  different  was  his  subsequent  conduct,  when  he  had 
learnt,  by  "perfect  love/'  to  "cast  out  fear/'  Called  to  gaze 
into  profounder  depths  of  his  Kedeemer's  glory — though 
subsequent  nearer  and  dearer  fellowship  tended  in  no  degree 
to  diminish  his  sense  of  that  gulph,  which  must  ever  be 
untraversed  between  the  Creator  and  the  creature — the  sin-, 
ner  and  the  divinely  exalted  Holy  One*  —  nay,  though 
quickened  spiritual  sensibilities  would  tend  rather  to  aug- 
ment and  intensify  the  sense  of  unworthiness  and  imperfec- 
tion— yet  the  terror  of  this  first  surprise  never  again 
returns.  When  we  next  see  him  at  his  Saviour's  feet,  owning 
Him  as  God,  there  is  no  trembling  accent  on  his  lip  as  he 
makes  the  joyous  avowal,  "  Lord  to  whom  can  we  go,  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life ;  we  believe  and  are  sure  that 
Thou  art  the  Christ  the  Son  of  the  living  God,  which  should 
come  into  the  world." 

As  years  roll  over  his  head,  increased  familiarity  with  his 
Divine  Master  only  deepens  this  loving,  trustful  confiding- 
ncss  ;  and  even  after  the  Lord  had  withdrawn  from  him  His 
visible  presence — after  the  heavenly  veil  had  shut  out  His 
glorified  person  from  the  eyes  of  His  apostle — that  fervent 
soul  loved  to  penetrate  the  invisible;  realising  an  absent- 
Saviour,  he  thus  comforted  his  own  heart  and  the  hearts  of 
those  to  whom  he  wrote,  "  Whom  having  not  seen  ye  love, 
and  in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  Him  not,  yet  believing  ye 
rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 

Why,  and  how  this  wondrous  change  in  his  feelings  ?  It  is 
the  history  of  every  believer  still,  when  he  comes  for  the  first 
time  into  solemn,  heart-searching  contact  with  God ; — when 
*  Neander,  in  loco. 


S6  MEM01UES  OF  GENJKESABET. 

the  eyes  of  his  understanding  are  enlightened,  and  the 
awful  consciousness  passes  over  the  stricken  spirit — •"!  am  a 
poor,  miserable,  guilty,  condemned  being,  responsible  tr  One 
who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity."  Ah  !  when 
life's  long-slumbering  atheist-dream  has  been  thus  dispelled ; 
when  the  soul,  naked,  unsheltered,  guilty,  unforgiven,  feels 
itself  all  in  a  moment  in  the  presence  of  the  God  with 
whom,  emphatically,  "  it  has  to  do  ; "  when  an  inexorable 
law  flashes  conviction  and  condemnation  on  a  misspent 
past,  speaking  trumpet-tongued  of  the  righteousness  of  the 
lawgiver ;  when  a  future  of  limitless  being  rises  up  before 
him  in  ghastly  reality  ; — impressive  and  solemn  ciphers, 
unheeded  before,  now  standing  in  front  of  the  solitary  "  unit 
of  earthly  existence;"  when  the  miserable  shreds  and  patches 
of  earthly  goodness  and  virtue  are  disclosed  in  their  utter 
worthlessness — conventional  moralities  seen  to  be  but  "splen- 
did sins  " — sparks  of  fire  of  their  own  kindling,  quenched 
one  after  another,  and  revealing  only  a  darkness  more  felt; 
the  awakened  sinner,  stricken  down,  helpless,  terrified,  before 
this  first  revelation  of  JEHOVAH,  exclaims,  with  Job,  "  I 
have  heard  of  Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine 
eye  seeth  Thee,  wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust 
and  ashes  ! "  He  gazes  on  the  great  God  of  Heaven — the 
Holy  One — the  Just  One — the  Eighteous  One — but  it  is  out 
of  Christ,  and  He  is  a  "  consuming  fire."  "  Depart  from' me," 
he  exclaims  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear.  It  is  the  feeling  of  our 
fallen  Parents  of  old,  when,  under  the  fresh  consciousness  of 
their  guilt,  ».hey  fled  affrighted  from  their  Maker.  The  voice 
£0  lately  all  music  has  nothing  1:  ut  terror  and  wrath  ; — the 
tiaming  cherubim  guard  the  way  Where  is  the  spot  in  the 


THE  CALL  AND  COSbECUATION.  37 

wide  universe  to  which  that  burdened  soul  would  not  rush 
to  screen  itself  from  revealed  truth,  holiness,  omniscience  ? 

But,  lo !  the  flaming  sword  guarding  the  way  to  the  Tree  of 
Life  is  seen  quenched  with  blood.  The  unbridged  gulph  of 
separation  has  been  spanned ;  a  glorious  sunshine  bringing 
peace  and. rest  and  consolation,  bursts  from  that  dark  and 
lowering  sky.  The  brief  history  of  that  joyful  transforma- 
tion is  thus  told, — "  God  is  in  Christ,  reconciling  a  lost  world 
to  Himself."  Yes  !  that  trembling  one  ventures  to  lift  up  his 
eyes  in  these  moments  of  waking  agony.  He  sees  One 
standing  by  him  in  mingled  majesty  and  tenderness,  who 
has  magnified  that  law  and  made  it  honourable,  and  who,  by 
His  doing  and  dying,  has  opened  up  a  way  of  forgiveness  to 
the  guiltiest.  The  gates  of  torment  are  shut ;  the  gates  of 
glory  are  opened.  It  is  no  longer  a  "  fearful  "  but  a 
blessed  thing  "  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God." 
In  trembling  transport  he  exclaims  —  (not  as  in  the  first 
anguish  of  awaking  convictions,  "  Depart  from  me,"  but,) 
"  Lord,  to  whom  can  I  go  but  unto  Thee  ? "  "  Entreat  me 
not  to  leave  Thee,  nor  to  return  from  following  after  Thee. 
Where  Thou  goest,  I  will  go ;  where  Thou  dwellest,  I  will 
dwell.  Through  liTe  I  will  pass  cheered  by  Thy  love ;  in 
death  I  shall  be  supported  by  Thine  everlasting  arms; 
through  all  eternity  I  shall  in  Thine  unveiled  presence  re- 
joice with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory/' 

Oh,  happy  consummation !  if,  while  we  are  smitten  down 
by  a  sense  of  our  unworthiness,  we  are  directed  to  adoring 
Gospel  views  of  Christ,  in  His  person,  and  offices,  and  work. 
Believer!  turn  your  eye  with  arrested  gaze  on  this  divine  Sa~ 
viour.  The  more  you  gaze,  the  more  will  terror  give  way  to 


38  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESABET. 

wonder,  love,  confidence,  joy.  The  more  you  study  His  divine 
character,  the  more  you  will  understand  the  divine  secret  of 
repose — "  Acquaint  thyself  now  with  God  and  be  at  peace/' 

II.  We  have  THE  SAVIOUE'S  ASSUEANCE. — How  gently  He 
speaks  ! — "Jesus  said  unto  him,  Simon,  FEAE  NOT."  It  is 
the  same  calming  word  which,  as  we  shall  find  in  after  times, 
soothed  and  lulled  disquieting  misgivings — dropping  like  oil 
on  the  surging  sea — "  Fear  not,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid."  When 
St  John  found  himself  gazing  on  the  lustrous  countenance  of 
his  Redeemer  in  Patmos,  he  fell  awe-struck  at  His  feet,  "as  one 
dead."  But  the  whisper  of  a  well-known  voice  was  enough 
to  restore  confidence  and  joy.  It  was  the  same  gracious 
watchword — "Fear  not,  I  am  He  that  liveth,  and  was  dead." 

What  a  sublime  antidote  to  our  misgivings !  What  a 
balm  to  our  troubled  spirits,  these  accents  of  undying  and 
unchanging  solace,  stealing  like  celestial  chimes  from  the 
upper  sanctuary — "  FEAE  NOT  ! "  Fear  not,  thou  poor  sinner 
trembling  under  a  sense  of  thy  sin,  thy  great  un worthiness, 
thy  black  ingratitude.  "  I  am  come  to  seek  and  to  save 
them  that  are  lost."  Fear  not,  thou  faint  and  weary  one, 
appalled  at  thine  own  deep  corruptions  and  guilty  estrange- 
ments. The  temptations  and  snares  of  a  seductive  world,  and 
that  great  antagonist,  unbelief,  ever  tempting  thee  to  stray 
from  the  living  God ; — "  I  will  make  my  grace  sufficient  for 
thee."  Fear  not,  thou  tempted  and  tried  one,  beaten  down 
with  a  great  fight  of  afflictions ;  thy  garnered  earthly  bless- 
ings swept  from  thee  like  chaff  in  the  summer's  threshing 
floor,  thy  household  plundered  of  its  nearest  and  dearest, 
and  the  gaping  fissures  in  thy  bleeding  heart  refusing  to  be 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION.  39 

healed  or  comforted.  Fear  not,  I  am  better  than  son  or 
daughter,  or  any  earthly  relative.  Heart  and  flesh  may  faint 
and  fail,  but  God  is  the  strength  of  thy  heart,  and  thy 
portion  for  ever.  Fear  not,  thou  who  "through  fear  of  death 
art  all  thy  lifetime  subject  to  bondage/'  I  once  was  dead. 
I  have  sanctified  the  grave  before  thee.  I  have  fought  and 
conquered  death  in  his  own  territories,  and  dragged  him  in 
triumph  at  my  chariot  wheels.  This  last  enemy  may  at 
times,  be  to  thee  like  a  cold  ghastly  shade  moving  on  the  mid- 
night lake.  But  trust  Me,  when  it  comes,  thou  shalt  hear  loud 
amid  the  storm  a  Voice  mightier  than  the  noise  of  many 
waters ;  yea,  than  the  mighty  waves  of  the  sea—  "Fear  not, 
it  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

The  Saviour,  having  allayed  his  servant's  fears,  proceeds  to 
unfold  the  nature  and  duties,  the  responsibilities  and  en- 
couragements, of  the  great  apostolic  work. 

How  startled  must  that  fisherman  of  Galilee  have  been  by 
the  announcement  which  now  fell  upon  his  ears — "  From 
henceforth  thou  shalt  catch  men!"  Jesus  made  the  mute 
tenants  of  the  lake  that  lay  in  dead  and  dying  heaps  in  the 
net,  a  living  parable  and  pledge  of  far  vaster  successes.  He 
was  to  retain  his  net,  but  souls  were  to  be  the  nobler  prey. 
He  was  to  buffet  waves  still,  but  they  were  to  be  the  waves 
of  human  passion,  and  ignorance,  and  crime.  He  was  to 
hoist  his  sail  still  on  a  more  treacherous  sea,  but,  with  a 
mightier  arm  than  his  own  guiding  the  helm,  he  would 
reach  the  heavenly  shore  with  the  unbroken  net,  and  lay  at 
his  Redeemer's  feet  joyous  multitudes  rescued  from  the 
depths  of  ruin  and  despair. 

Commentators  have  often  marked,  in  the  original  Greek, 


40  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESAEET. 

the  power  and  beauty  of  the  word  here  used  by  Jesus,  and 
whose  full  meaning  is  so  inadequately  expressed  by  the  term 
"  catch  "  in  our  translation.  It  means  to  catch,  not  in  order 
to  kill  and  destroy,  but  to  "  catch  alive/'  to  catch  in  order  to 
preserve  and  perpetuate  life,  or  to  raise  it  to  a  higher  state 
of  development. 

Ah,  wondrous  encouragement  to  Peter,  and  to  all  who  like 
Peter  are  entrusted  with  the  net  of  the  gospel !  Ministers 
of  Christ !  here  is  your  high  prerogative,  to  raise  the  myriads 
which  at  the  Saviour's  word  you  capture — to  raise  them  from 
the  lower  element,  "the  earth,  earthy/'  to  the  higher  and  nobler 
and  purer  element  of  undying  endless  LIFE.  If  the  analogy 
fail  in  the  case  of  the  humble  spoil  which  then  lay  on  the 
earthly  shore,  it  is  only  that  Christ,  by  the  beauty  of  contrast, 
may  bring  out  more  vividly  the  true  grandeur  of  the  apostolate. 
It  was  as  if  He  had  said,  "Peter,  that  net  of  thine  has  dragged 
its  multitudes  out  of  their  briny  depths,  but  they  struggle  and 
die  in  this  new  and  hostile  element.  As  they  are  cast  on  the 
beach,  their  tiny  existence,  the  ephemeral  life  I  gave  them,  ter- 
minates for  ever.  But  different,  far  different,  is  thine  embassy. 
At  my  command  thou  art  to  let  down  thy  net.  Myriads  on 
myriads  in  the  ocean  depths  of  despair  are  to  be  the  fruits  of 
thy  faithful  toil  and  that  of  others ;  and  no  sooner  do  they 
leave  their  old  element  of  guilt  and  depravity,  than  they  begin 
to  breathe  a  new  and  nobler  life,  immortal  as  my  own/' 

Would  that  those  of  us  who  are  "Fishers  of  men" — Ambassa- 
dors of  Christ — could  realise  this  vast,  this  incomparable  work, 
with  all  its  tremendous  responsibilities  and  tremendous  results! 
Death  and  life  are  here  confided  to  us  !  Our  aim  is  here  repre- 
sented to  be,  not  a  mere  external  varnishing  over  with  new 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION.  41 

habits,  new  tastes,  new  virtues ;  but  to  effect  a  change  of 
being.  The  faithful  preaching  of  the  gospel  ought  to  have  for 
its  object  a  bringing  up  and  out  from  the  deep,  dead  sea  of 
nature;  elevating  to  anew  heaven-born  atmosphere.  Oh,  LIFE 
is  a  solemn  thing! — a  solemn  word!  It  is  a  solemn  hour 
— every  parent  knows  it — when  a  child  is  born  into  the 
world ; — when  the  first  infant  cry  breaks  upon  the  ear,  and 
tells  that  a  little  denizen  has  been  added  to  the  domain  of 
life — a  new  heir  of  an  endless  imperishable  being !  And 
shall  not  that  be  a  solemn  and  momentous  event,  when,  at 
the  second  spiritual  birth,  the  cry  of  the  new  creature  is 
heard,  "  Lord,  save  me,  I  perish  " — when  the  immortal  spirit 
begins  to  breathe  a  new  atmosphere,  to  share  in  the  very  Life 
of  the  Almighty  who  made  him,  and  in  the  Resurrection-life 
of  the  Saviour  who  redeemed  him  ?  You  are  captured  in  the 
Gospel  net,  but  it  is  to  have  life  infused,  the  only  thing 
worth  calling  life  in  a  dead  and  dying  world.  I  repeat  it, 
the  Gospel  raises  to  a  higher  platform — it  raises  from  the 
grovelling  element  of  nature  to  the  higher  element  of  grace 
and  glory.  The  little  seed  is  in  its  element  when,  beneath  the 
clod,  it  slumbers  in  darkness  in  its  clay  or  mossy  bed ;  but 
nobler  is  its  new  element,  when  it  springs  exultant  from 
its  prison  house,  and,  arrayed  in  living  green,  bathes  its  new- 
born tints  in  the  glorious  sunlight.  The  caterpillar  is  in  its 
native  element  when,  embedded  in  its  chrysalis  state,  it  lies  a 
torpid  and  forbidding  groveller  in  its  winter  shell ;  but  nobler 
is  its  destiny,  when  on  wings  of  purple  and  gold  it  spurns  its 
tiny  sepulchre,  and  in  resurrection  attire  speeds  it  from  flower 
to  flower.  The  earth  is  one  mass  of  teeming  life,  living  and 
moving,  and  turning  on  its  axis,  even  when  night  wraps  it 


42  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

ill  its  curtain,  and  deep  sleep  pervades  its  silent  tenantry ;  but 
nobler  surely  is  that  life,  when  the  sun  lights  up  with  living 
glory  temple  and  tree,  and  rock  and  mountain,  transforming 
lake  and  ocean  into  burnished  gold,  and  man,  its  high  priest, 
"goes  forth  to  his  work  and  his  labour  until  the  evening/' 

But  what  are  these  compared  to  the  higher  Life  and  Glory 
with  which  the  immortal  soul  is  invested,  when  the  Great  Spirit, 
brooding  over  its  chaos,  gives  the  summons,  "  Let  there  be 
light,"  "Let  there  be  Life. "  Oh,  that  this  might  ever  be  the  aim 
— the  end — the  glory  of  all  preaching  (perish  all  other) — to 
"catch  men,"  not  by  human  power  or  human  eloquence — the 
wisdom  of  words — exalting  ourselves  at  the  expense  of  our 
Master — making  the  cross  of  Christ  of  none  effect ;  but  in 
faith  and  love  and  joyful  hope,  letting  down  the  simple  net — • 
it  may  be  with  rude  untutored  hands,  but  doing  so  at  the  word 
of  Christ,  and  with  longing  desire  to  bring  immortal  spirits 
safe  to  the  heavenly  shore,  living  trophies  to  cast  at  the 
Great  Master's  feet. 

The  ministers  of  Christ,  in  handling  the  gospel  net,  are  apt 
at  times  to  be  discouraged.  They  have  to  mourn  like  Peter 
over  hours  of  unavailing  effort — Sabbaths  when  the  net  was 
(as  they  thought)  in  faith  let  clown ;  but  no  result  of  their, 
labours — no  owning  of  their  work.  Yet  we  will  not  despair. 
"Nevertheless  at  Thy  word  we  will  still  let  down  the  net." 

Others  may  resort  to  other  expedients  for  the  amelioration 
of  man,  solving  the  great  problem  of  fretful,  careworn,  rest- 
less, suffering  humanity  apart  from  the  gospel.  The  philoso- 
pher may  dream  of  visionary  earthly  antidotes;  the  statesman 
may  see  in  some  cold,  frigid,  intellectual  training  a  panacea 
for  human  wrongs ;  the  moralist  may  discourse  on  human 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION.  43 

virtue,  and  the  self-rectifying  power  of  human  goodness ;  the 
Socialist  may  dare  to  propound  his  damning  theories  as  the 
pioneers  of  the  halcyon  reign  of  unbounded  liberty,  but  "never- 
theless we  will  let  down  the  net/'  We  have  boldness  and 
confidence  that  Christ,  and  Him  crucified,  and  the  new 
life  which  this  Lord  of  life  has  to  impart,  are  the  true  and 
only  secrets  of  peace  on  eaith  and  good  will  to  men. 

See  what  that  gospel  has  done  already !  mark  its  power  and 
progress  ever  since  that  hour  when  on  Tiberias  shore  Christ 
spake  this  authoritative  word  to  these  humble  fishermen! 
How  weak  their  efforts!  how  humble  their  instrumentality! 
What !  a  handful  of  uneducated  men  from  the  darkest  of  all 
the  Palestine  provinces,  and  one  other  converted  Jew  of 
Tarsus ;  who  ever  dreamt  of  these  hurling  superstition 
from  her  throne — silencing  her  oracles — demolishing  the 
temples  and  shrines  of  ages — bringing  the  whole  Eoman 
empire,  as  by  a  magic  touch,  to  own  a  crucified  Saviour 
as  it3  God  and  King  ? 

What  cannot  grace  do?  Their  first  motto  has  been  the 
motto  of  every  faithful  successor  in  the  glorious  company  of 
apostles — "  Nevertheless  at  Thy  word  we  will  let  down  the 
net/'  The  ancestral  splendours  of  our  own  ancient  ritual  is 
against  us  ;  the  pomp  and  pride  of  imperial  Borne  is  against 
no ;  the  learning  and  philosophy  of  polished  Greece  is  against 
us ;  the  idolatries  of  Paganism,  with  their  lust  and  revelry 
and  blood,  are  against  us ;  the  heart  of  corrupted,  degraded 
humanity  is  against  us — "  Nevertheless  at  Thy  word  we  will 
let  down  the  net/' 

Rome  has  conquered  by  her  sword ;  Greece  lias  rendered 
herself  immortal  by  her  triumphs  of  intellect.  The  Jew — 


44?  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAIIET. 

arrogant,  fanatical — boasts  of  a  descent  from  the  world's  aris- 
tocracy, and  proudly  clings  to  an  abrogated  ritual.  But  we, 
with  the  humblest  instrumentality — an  instrumentality  of 
which  the  net  of  lowly  fishermen  is  the  befitting  type — we 
will  go  forth  on  our  accredited  mission,  feeling  that  herein 
lies  the  secret  of  all  success — "  Not  by  might  nor  by  power, 
but  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts."  "  It  has 
pleased  God,  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  to  save  them 
that  believe ! "  More  than  this,  looking  closely  to  this  pro- 
phetic parable,  we  find  that  Christ,  in  calling  human  agents 
to  be  Fishers  of  men,  not  only  divinely  appoints  to  the 
office,  and  divinely  qualifies  for  the  office,  but  there  is  an  ex- 
quisite significance  in  the  accompanying  act  of  the  draught 
of  fishes.  It  is  a  prophetic  promise  that  men  sliall  be  en- 
closed ;  that  His  word  shall  not  return  to  Him  void ;  that  the 
net  of  the  kingdom  shall  not  be  let  down  in  vain.  It  is  the 
Lord  himself  giving  the  pledge,  and  symbol,  and  guarantee 
of  success ;  and  we  shall  find  Him  repeating  the  same  with 
still  greater  significance,  at  the  close  of  all — at  His  last  visit 
to  Gennesaret,  ere  He  ascended  to  glory.  Oh,  yes !  the  let- 
ting down  of  that  gospel  net,  the  filling  it,  the  drawing  it — 
is  the  Lord's  work  and  not  man's.  "  Neither  is  he  that 
planteth  anything,  neither  he  that  watereth,  but  God  who 
giveth  the  increase,  that  our  faith  may  not  stand  in  the 
wisdom  of  men,  but  in  the  power  of  God."  The  great  and 
glorious  history  of  apostolic  preaching  and  ministerial  suc- 
cess for  the  last  1800  years,  may  be  given  in  the  lofty  words 
of  the  Psalmist;  they  are  words  that  would  seem  more 
especially  to  take  their  date  from  the  very  hour  of  which 
we  now  speak,  when  Jesus  stood  on  Geimesaret's  shore — 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION.  45 

when  His  omnipotent  mandate  moved  the  first  wave — this 
impelling  another,  and  another,  and  another  still — until  the 
glad  gospel  waters  are  now  fast  sweeping  over  the  sands  of 
time  ; — "  The  Lord  gave  the  word — great  was  the  company 
of  those  that  published  it.  Kings  of  armies  did  flee  apace, 
and  she  that  tarried  at  home  divided  the  spoil.  Though  ye 
have  lien  among  the  pots,  yet  shall  ye  be  as  the  wings  of  a 
clove  covered  with  silver,  and  her  feathers  with  yellow  gold/' 

III.  Let  us  observe  the  DISCIPLES'  RESOLUTION — "  And 
when  they  had  brought  their  ships  to  land,  they  forsook  all 
and  followed  Jesus."  * '  Or  as  the  same  incident  is  recorded  in 
the  parallel  passage  in  St  Matthew's  gospel — "And  they 
straightway  left  their  nets  and  followed  him.  And  going 
on  from  thence,  he  saw  other  two  brethren,  James  the  son  of 
Zebeclee,  and  John  his  brother,  in  a  ship,  with  Zebedee  their 
father  mending  their  nets ;  and  he  called  them.  And  they 
immediately  left  the  ship  and  their  father,  and  followed 
him/'  f 

It  is  a  solemn  lesson  of  self-denial  we  are  called  on  here 
to  come  and  learn  at  the  feet  of  Galilean  fishermen.  It  was, 
it  must  have  been  for  them,  a  trying  hour.  At  a  moment's 
warning  their  worldly  all  was  to  be  left.  The  hallowed 
scenes  of  youth  were  around  them.  Every  rock  and  ravine 
— every  sheltered  nook  and  bay  in  that  lovely  inland  sea, — 
they  knew  it  well.  The  Bethsaida  hamlet,  from  which  child- 
hood was  wont  to  rush  in  its  sunny  morning  to  welcome 
the  father,  as  his  boat  rasped  the  shallows,  after  his  night 
of  toil  in  the  lake,  was  full  in  view.  Nay,  we  are  expressly 
*  Luke  v.  11.  f  Matt.  iv.  21,  22. 


46  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

told,  that  father's  ear  listened  to  the  strange  summons  that 
implied  separation  from  him  and  his  home,  probably  for  ever. 
They  just  had,  moreover,  their  boats  filled  to  overflowing. 
Elated  with  success,  which  they  might  have  been  perverse 
enough  to  attribute  to  ordinary  causes,  they  never  before  had 
so  strong  inducement  to  cleave  to  their  nets  and  prosecute 
their  calling. 

And  for  what  were  they  to  exchange  their  little  all?  It 
was  to  carry  a  heavy  cross !  It  was  to  attach  themselves  to 
the  person  and  fortunes  of  the  reputed  Son  of  a  carpenter, 
who  was  often  unable  to  tell  of  so  secure  a  shelter  as  had  the 
fox  of  the  mountain  or  the  bird  of  the  forest!  Yet  they 
("straightway")  without  deliberating — without  conferring  with 
flesh  and  blood — without  reasoning  on  maxims  of  expediency 
— willingly  surrendered  that  all,  and  cast  in  their  lot  with 
the  despised  and  rejected  One!  "Pollow  me!"  said  their 
Lord ;  and  with  cheerful  alacrity  their  boats,  homes,  friends, 
were  left — "from  henceforth  they  are  fishers  of  men!" 

Did  they  regret  this  noble  adhesion?  Were  they  sufferers 
by  their  self-sacrificing  devotion?  "Lo!"  says  Peter,  on  an 
after  occasion,  "we  have  left  all  and  followed  thee!"  Jesus 
said  in  reply,  "Verily  I  say  unto  you  there  is  no  man  that 
hath  left  house  or  parents,  or  brethren  or  wife,  or  children,  for 
the  kingdom  of  God's  sake,  who  shall  not  receive  manifold 
more  in  this  present  time,  and  in  the  world  to  come  life- 
everlasting  ! " 

Ah !  who  ever  suffered  by  casting  in  his  lot  with  a  suffer- 
ing Saviour,  and  with  joyful  intrepidity  following  Jesus? 
"Would  to  God,"  said  another  great  follower  (unabashed  by 
the  regal  purple  before  him  in  making  his  bold  avowal)—- 


THE  CALL  AMD  COKSECKATION.  47 

"  would  to  God,"  said  he,  even  though  the  clank  of  the  chain 
on  his  own  arm  reminded  of  earthly  bonds — "  would  to  God 
you  were  not  only  almost  but  altogether  such  as  I  am!"* 

Reader!  have  you  followed — are  you  following  Jesus  as 
did  these  His  first  apostles?  You  are  not  called  on,  thank 
God,  like  them  to  follow  Him  in  the  spoilings  of  your  earthly 
goods,  or  in  the  relinquishment  of  your  earthly  homes.  To  be 
a  follower  of  Christ  does  not  require  huge  sacrifices — brilliant 
displays  of  heroic  suffering.  I  believe  that  meek  Saviour  is 
most  honoured  by  those  who  bear  most  meekly  what  I  might 
call  little  crosses,  who,  not  in  the  great  battle-field  of  the 
world,  but  in  the  quiet  of  their  own  homesteads,  exhibit  the 
lowly,  submissive,  patient  spirit  of  cross-bearing  disciples. 

Look  back  on  your  past  life — look  even  back  on  a  single 
year,  and  can  you  point  to  any  one  action  in  the  course  of 
it,  in  which  you  are  conscious  of  having  made  some  little 
denial  of  self,  because  you  thought  that  denial  would  be 
pleasing  to  Jesus?  Can  you  tell  of  some  passion  you  sub- 
dued— some  lust  you  mortified — some  kindly  deed  you  per- 
formed, because  you  believed  your  Saviour  would  be  honoured, 
and  you  were  thereby  doing  His  will  ?  Can  you  tell  of  some 
sore  affliction  to  which  you  bowed  in  meek  and  lowly  sub- 
mission, manifesting  in  your  trial  patience,  and  faith,  and 
unmurmuring  resignation,  because  you  thought  of  an  un- 
murmuring Saviour,  and  that  your  own  cross  was  but  as 
dust  in  the  balance  compared  with  His?  Say,  is  not  that 
following  of  your  Lord  self -rewarding  and  self -recompensing  ? 
"  If  any  man  serve  me,"  says  He,  "  let  him  follow  me,  and 
where  I  am  there  shall  also  my  servant  be;  if  any  man  serve 

*  Acts  xxvi.  29. 


48  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

me  him  will  my  Father  honour!"  Even  if  it  be  suffering 
and  trial  you  are  called  to  endure,  what  a  privilege  in  this  to 
"follow  Jesus"  Yes!  put  the  emphasis  on  these  little  words 
— "  Follow  Me."  "  They  followed  HIM  \ "  Suffering  believer ! 
is  it  no  solace  in  the  midst  of  trial  to  think  that  you  are 
following  in  the  very  footsteps  of  a  suffering  Saviour — that 
you,  a  poor,  guilty,  worthless  sinner,  are  faring  no  worse  than 
your  Lord  and  Master  did — the  stainless,  spotless,  sinless,  and 
withal  unrepining  Lamb  of  God  ? 

Follow  him  fully — cast  off  every  impediment — every  lin- 
gering sin  that  would  hamper  you  in  His  service.  Go  and 
shew  that  thou  followest  Him  by  thy  deeds.  It  was  not  by 
tarrying  at  their  nets,  or  lingering  on  the  shores,  that  the 
disciples  manifested  their  resolve  to  cast  in  their  lot  with  the 
homeless  Christ  of  Galilee !  They  did  it.  Ah !  religion  is 
not  contemplation,  but  action.  Religion  is  not  a  thing  of 
mopish  sentimentalism,  or  demure  looks,  or  set  phrases.  It 
is  launching  forth  into  the  deep  of  our  own  and  the  world's 
great  necessities.  It  is  letting  down  the  net  for  a  draught, 
and  then,  in  conjunction  with  this  earnest  work,  rising  up 
and  following  the  example,  the  footsteps,  the  word,  the  will 
of  Jesus. 

Arise,  then,  let  us  be  going !  We  may,  like  the  disciples 
in  that  first  hour  of  their  calling,  be  all  in  ignorance  of  a 
veiled  and  shadowed  future ;  but,  if  like  them,  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  Lord,  we  may  fearlessly  leave  our  fondest  earthly 
treasures  behind  us,  making  but  one  conditional  prayer,  "  If 
Thy  presence  go  not  with  us,  cany  us  not  hence/'  Follow- 
ing Him  in  His  cross  we  shall  at  last  be  sharers  with  Him  in 
His  glorious  crown,  and  reap  the  blessing  which  He  elsewhere 


THE  CALL  AND  CONSECRATION. 


49 


promises  to  His  Apostolic  band,  and  through  them  to  all 
who  inherit  a  disciple-spirit.  "  Ye  who  have  followed  Me  in 
the  regeneration,  when  the  Son  of  Man  shall  sit  on  the 
throne  of  His  glory,  ye  also  shall  sit  upon  twelve  thrones 
judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel" 


,:. 


V. 

K ttorrable 


He  hears  the  crowd  ;  —  he  hears  a  breath 
Say,  "  It  is  Christ  of  Nazareth  ;  " 
And  calls  in  tones  of  agony, 
Irjcrov 


"  When  He  was  come  down,  from  the  mountain,  great  multitudes  followed 
Him.  And,  behold,  there  came  a  leper  and  worshipped  Him  ;  saying,  Lord,  if 
Thou  wilt,  Thou  canst  make  me  clean."  —  MATI.  viii.  1-5;  MAKK.I.  40-45;  LUKB 
T.  12-16. 


THE  INCUKABLE  CUKED. 

A  SERMON,  succeeded  by  a  miracle,  formed,  in  the  preceding 
chapters,  our  first  introduction  to  the  "  Lake  of  Gennesaret" 
— the  sermon  to  the  multitudes  preached  from  Simon's  fish- 
ing boat,  followed  by  the  launching  forth  into  the  deep,  the 
letting  down  of  the  nets,  and  the  miraculous  capture. 

We  have  now  another  Miracle  following  a  more  illustrious 
Discourse  still.  The  greatest  of  our  Lord's  sermons — the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount — which  of  itself,  independent  of  any 
other  incidents,  is  sufficient  to  give  an  undying  interest  to 
these  shores,  had  just  been  spoken  ;*  He  attests,  as  in  the 
former  case,  His  mighty  words  by  mighty  works,  authen- 
ticates His  teachings  by  "  signs  following/' 

He  had  been  proclaiming  heavenly  Benedictions.  He  is 
now  Himself  "  THE  Merciful  ONE  " — the  great  source  and 
fountain-head  of  compassion  to  exemplify  and  illustrate  His 
utterances  by  one  of  the  most  marvellous  of  His  deeds. 

Let  us,  in  the  further  exposition  of  this  Gospel  narra- 
tive, advert — 

I.  To  the  Scene. 

II  To  its  Great  Lesson. 

*  The  author  has  been  reluctantly  obliged  to  omit  a  detailed  exposition  of 
this  matchless  effusion  of  heavenly  wisdom — not  the  least  interesting  or  instruc- 
tive, certainly,  of  the  "  Memories  of  Gennesaret."  To  have  done  so,  however, 
would  have  occupied  more  space  than  would  be  consistent  with  the  limits  of  the 
present  volume. 


52  MEMOK1ES  OF  GE-NNESAKET. 

I.  Recent  travellers,  and  especially  the  most  recent  and 
trustworthy  of  all,  have  identified  a  mountain,  standing  alone 
in  a  green  table-land,  called  the  Plain  of  Hattin,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Gennosaret  lake,  with  the  "  Mount  of  Beatitudes/' 
from  whose  two-horned  top*  the  Saviour  delivered  His  memor- 
able sermon.  This  mountain  is  visible  from  all  parts  of  the 
lake,  its  double  or  "  bifurcated  cone  "  mingling  in  every  view 
of  the  diversified  landscape.  A  deep  ravine,  known  as  "  The 
Wddy  Hymam,  or  Valley  of  Doves," -^  connects  this  level  plat- 
form of  Hattin  and  its  mountain,  with  the  plain  of  Gennes- 
aret  and  the  shores  of  the  inland  sea.  As  this  retired  yet  ele- 
vated spot  was  easily  accessible,  we  may  imagine  the  Divine 
Redeemer  often  ascending  it  through  the  narrow  mountain 
gorge.  From  the  flowers  that  carpeted  the  ravine,  and  the 
doves  or  pigeons  that  built  their  nests  on  the  branches  over- 
head, He  may  have  derived  the  imagery  He  employs  in 
His  sermon  ;  when  He  speaks  of  the  lilies  as  clothed,  and 
the  fowls  of  the  air  as  ministered  to  by  an  unseen  but 
gracious  Provider. 

He  was  in  the  act  of  returning  in  company  with  the  vast 
multitude  back  towards  Capernaum,  when  a  strange  and 
startling  sight  disclosed  itself.  What  though  flowers  were 
clothing  the  earth,  and  birds  singing  among  the  branches  ? 
What  though  azure  skies  o'er-canopied  them,  and  a  Lake 
the  image  of  peace  was  sleeping  in  quiet  loveliness  at  their 
feet  ?  One  sight  and  wail  of  human  misery  now  borne  to 
their  ears  and  confronting  their  eyes,  too  sadly  reminded 

*  The  modern  name  re,  the  "  Horns  of  HattJn." — See  Stanley,  p.  364. 

t  "  The  Wady  Hymam,  the  'Valley  of  Do.es/  so  called,  perhaps,  from  the 
perforations  which  still  continue  in  the  rocks :  in  Josephus'  time,  the  stronghold 
of  robbers;  now,  probably,  of  wild  pigeons." — Stanley,  p.  378. 


THE  INCURABLE  CUIJO).  53 

them  that  sin  had  made  this  world  a  world  of  suffering — 
full,  like  the  prophet's  roll,  of  "  lamentation,  and  mourning, 
and  woe/' 

A  miserable  being,  afflicted  with  the  most  loathsome 
and  ignominious  of  diseases,  had  been  brooding  in  silent 
thought  (possibly  for  days — possibly  for  weeks)  as  to  whether 
he  might  dare  venture  to  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  the 
wondrous  Restorer.  Vain  to  this  lone  and  desolate  spirit 
was  all  the  beauty  of  that  outer  nature  in  the  midst  of 
which  his  existence  had  been  spent.  The  curse  of  God  was 
resting  upon  him.  His  brother  man  looked  strange  and 
alien  upon  him.  From  that  ghastly  countenance,  rich  and 
poor,  young  and  old,  fled  affrighted.  What  to  him  were  the 
thickly-studded  towns  and  villages  which  fringed  that  scene 
of  busy  life ; — he  dared  not  so  much  as  set  foot  in  one  of 
them ;  though  born  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews,  a  child  of 
Abraham ;  a  sad  anathema  severed  him  from  the  privi- 
leges of  the  enfranchised  nation.  What  though  he  saw  and 
heard,  spring  after  spring,  at  the  passover  season,  joyful 
groups  with  songs  on  their  lips  going  up  to  Jerusalem 
the  city  of  solemnities ;  for  him  there  was  no  place  among 
"  the  multitude  that  kept  holiday."  Ceremonially  unclean, 
he  was  by  a  terrible  edict  cut  oft'  from  the  congregation  of 
the  Lord.  While  others  took  sweet  counsel  together,  and 
went  to  the  house  of  God  in  company,  he  could  only  in 
the  bitterest  of  captivities  "weep  when  he  remembered 
Ziou!" 

His  lonesome  home  was  either  some  secluded  hut  amid 
these  Galilee  mountains,  or  if  he  were  permitted  to  associate 
with  his  fellows  at  all,  it  was  a  wretched  confederacy  with 


54;  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

other  lepers  like  himself,  who,  in  their  exile  communities,  only 
recounted  to  each  other  the  dismal  story  of  their  sufferings, 
and  gazed  on  faces  and  frames  more  ghastly  and  mutilated 
than  their  own.* 

But  in  what  dreams  cannot  Hope  indulge  in  life's  dreariest 
exigencies?  In  such  a  case  as  the  present,  indeed,  every 
vestige  of  such  hope  might  well  seem  to  have  expired;  not 
only  was  the  disease  itself  inveterate,  but  this  leper's  was  one 
of  the  worst  types  of  it.  St  Luke  speaks  of  him  as  "full  of 
leprosy/'  Year  after  year  he  may  have  watched  with  the 
horror  of  despair  the  slow,  silent,  insidious  progress  of  the 
wasting  tetter,  like  an  unseen  vulture  preying  on  his  flesh  — 
devouring  limb  by  limb,  member  by  member.  He  had  be- 
come a  loathsome  and  distorted  shadow  of  what  once  he  was. 
Life  itself  was  a  curse.  It  would  have  been  to  him  a  bless- 
ing to  die. 

But  in  that  desolate  bosom  still  lay  some  lingering 
sparks  of  hope — the  last  emotion  of  the  human  soul  that 
expires.  These  wrere  fanned  into  a  faint  glow  by  hearing 
of  the  wonders  wrought  by  the  Prophet  of  Galilee.  A  few 
weeks  before,  when  the  Sabbath's  sun  had  sunk  behind  the 
western  hills  of  the  Lake ;  the  lame,  the  sick,  the  diseased,  the 

*  We  read  of  the  four  lepers  found  together  near  Samaria,  when  it  was 
besieged  by  Benhadad,  also  ten  lepers  in  company  close  by  "a  certain  village," 
whom  the  Saviour  healed.  Dr  Itobinson  thus  writes,  "  We  reached  the  Zion 
gate  just  as  it  was  opened  atone  o'clock:  within  the  gate,  a  little  towards  the 
right,  are  some  miserable  hovels  inhabited  by  persons  called  leprous.  Whether 
this  disease  is  or  is  not  the  leprosy  of  Scripture,  we  are  unable  to  affirm,  the 
symptoms  described  to  us  were  similar  tn  those  called  Elephantiasis.  At  any- 
rate  they  are  pitiable  objects,  and  miserable  outcasts  frum  society.  They  all  live 
here  together,  and  intermarry  ouly  with  each  other.  The  children  are  said  to 
be  healthy  till  they  come  of  age,  n-jien  the  disease  makes  its  appearance  and 
gradually  increases  so  long  as  th?  victim  survives." — Biblical  Researches. 


THE  INCURABLE  CURED.  55 

dying,  had  been  borne  to  the  Capernaum  home  of  this  greater 
than  human  Physician.  The  result  was,  that  that  sun  rose 
on  the  morrow  on  a  healed  city — disease  had  fled.  Many 
an  aching  pillow  and  anguished  heart  had  been  exchanged 
for  songs  of  deliverance ! 

Was  the  suggestion  a  strange  or  unnatural  one  which 
gathered  strength  in  the  bosom  of  this  outcast  Leper — "  Can 
this  same  Saviour  not  heal  me  ?  Can  /  alone  not  feel  His 
healing  touch?  Can  that  omnific  word  not  reach  this 
horrible  plague — dash  the  life-long  tear  from  this  eye  and 
pallor  from  this  cheek — wrench  away  these  rent  clothes 
which  (by  a  severe  necessity)  I  am  doomed  to  wear — open 
these  portals  and  thresholds  I  am  forbidden  to  enter — and 
send  me  forth  a  free  man,  to  set  my  feet  within  thy  gates,  0 
Jerusalem?"  All  that  he  had  that  day  seen  and  heard  may 
have  tended  to  strengthen  his  hopes  and  embolden  his  resolves. 
He  may  have  been  hovering  with  eager  expectancy  outside 
the  crowd  on  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes — screening  himself 
behind  the  ledge  of  a  rock  or  undulation  of  the  hill — the 
calm  silent  air  wafting  to  his  ear  some  of  the  wondrous  words 
of  the  Preacher!  Did  he  listen  to  these  opening  sentences? 
Did  they  not  appear  as  if  meant  for  him  ?  What !  he  would 
inwardly  say — "blessings  and  benedictions  poured  on  the 
'meek/  the  'poor/  the  'persecuted/  the  'despised!'  Did 
not  Jesus  of  Nazareth  speak,  too,  in  His  closing  sentences,  as 
if  Omnipotence  slumbered  in  His  arm?  Why  should  I  set 
limits  to  combined  power  and  mercy?  I  feel  assured  He  is 
able.  Is  He  willing  ?  I  shall  try  it — I  shall  test  it !  Crouch- 
ing at  the  feet  of  this  Prophet  of  Mercy,  if  I  be  spurned 
away,  it  is  only  what  the  past  has  taught  me  ofttimes  to 


56  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

endure.  Yes !  I,  the  most  wretched  of  the  wretched,  will  go 
and  claim  His  pitying  love,  and  throw  this  suffering  body  and 
suffering  spirit  imploringly  at  His  feet/'  Thus  did  a  ray  of 
anxious  hope  dawn  on  the  saddest  bosom  in  all  Galilee ! 

The  time  has  arrived !  The  tramp  of  the  multitude  is  heard. 
They  are  wending  their  way  down  one  of  the  bye-paths  to  the 
lake  side.  In  an  instant  the  halting  cripple,  with  head  bare 
and  clothes  rent,  and  covering  on  his  lip,  bounds  from  his 
lurking-place.  Shouting  the  terrible  watchword — "  Unclean  ! 
— unclean!" — to  warn  the  crowd  from  his  presence,  he  is 
prostrate  in  the  dust,  his  face  touching  the  garment-hem  of 
the  One  only  Being  in  the  wide  world  from  whom  he  has 
hope  of  cure. 

It  was  a  wondrous  meeting !  The  two  antipodes  of  being 
— the  extremes  of  humanity — met  at  that  moment  in  that 
Gemiesaret  road.  It  was  a  meeting  of  Mercy  with  Despair — 
Omnipotence  with  Weakness — Sympathy  with  Suffering — 
Purity  with  Pollution — -Life  with  Death !  Not  more  striking 
was  the  contrast  in  nature  between  the  bleak,  sterile,  torn 
desert  hills  on  the  east  of  the  lake  and  the  fertile  garden-slopes 
on  its  west,  than  between  that  rent  and  dislocated  body  and 
soul — that  terrible  monument  of  shattered  humanity — and  the 
calm  Godlike  Being  who  gazed  lovingly  down  on  the  wretch 
who  clutched  the  dust  with  his  wasted  fingers,  uttering  the  wild 
lament  of  hereditary  despair — yet  mingling  this  with  nobler 
accents,  "Lord,  if  Thou  wilt,  Thou  canst  make  me  clean!" 

Moment  of  thrilling  suspense!  The  multitude — the  dis- 
ciples— panic-struck,  may  probably  have  recoiled  from  the 
forbidden  contact;  they  may  possibly  have  bidden  the  in- 
truder away.  ONE  was  there  who  had  no  such  unkind  OT 


THE  INCURABLE  CUBED.  57 

unmerciful  thought.  Well  did  JESUS  know  all  that  terrible 
history  I  the  touching  story  of  years  written  in  that  ashen  coun- 
tenance !  He  put  forth  His  finger — touched  the  body  which 
no  nnleprous  hand  had  ever  before  dared  to  approach !  The 
Omnipotent  "I  WILL!"  sounded  forth,  bearing  on  its  wings 
words  of  healing.  The  scales  dropped  from  his  face — the 
flush  of  health  mounted  to  his  cheek — pain  fled  from  his 
aching  limbs.  "  This  poor  man  cried,  and  the  Lord  heard 
him,  and  saved  him  out  of  all  his  troubles ! " 

And  now  we  may  imagine  the  multitude,  with  the  restored 
Leper  in  their  midst,  entering  the  gates  of  Capernaum,  telling 
to  fresh  crowds  thronging  around  them  of  the  new  sermon 
and  miracle  they  had  just  heard  and  witnessed.  The  one  so 
full  of  tenderness  and  love — of  comfort  to  the  lowly  and  poor 
and  meek;  the  other  a  display  of  power  unparalleled  since 
the  days  of  Elisha  and  Naaman.  What  other  evidence  was 
needed  that  a  great  Prophet,  indeed,  had  arisen  in  Israel?  It 
was  a  twofold  marvel  even  in  that  old  land  of  miracle  and 
prodigy — "  the  Lepers  are  cleansed,  to  the  poor  the  gospel  is 
preached ! " 

II  Let  us  now  pass  from  the  Scene  to  its  great  LESSON — 
the  TerriUeness  of  Sin. 

We  have  frequent  examples  in  the  Old  Testament  dispen- 
sation, as  well  as  in  the  course  of  the  Saviour's  teaching, 
of  outward  and  visible  objects  being  taken  as  expo- 
nents of  moral  and  spiritual  truths.  Of  all  these  emblems, 
whether  in  the  animate  or  inanimate  world,  none  was 
more  terribly  impressive  and  significant  than  the  disease  of 
LEFBOSY.  It  is  not  only  that  we  discern  therein  some  strik- 


68  MEMORIES  OF  GENSESARET. 

ing  resemblances  to  Sin — the  great  spiritual  malady — and 
employ  the  one  as  illustrative  of  the  other.  These  resem- 
blances or  analogies  were  no  mere  accidents.  Leprosy  was 
singled  out  by  God  himself  from  the  vast  catalogue  of  human 
diseases  and  sufferings,  to  keep  before  the  eyes  of  His  people 
of  old  a  perpetual  memorial  of  the  vileness  and  awfulness  of 
moral  evil.  The  outer  body  was  made  by  Him  a  mirror  of 
the  far  deeper  and  darker  taint  in  the  soul.  It  was  a  silent 
preacher  in  the  midst  of  the  theocratic  nation  and  to  the 
end  of  time,  testifying  to  the  virulence  of  a  more  inveterate 
malady — that  "  from  the  sole  of  the  foot  even  unto  the  head 
there  is  no  soundness  in  us,  but  wounds  and  bruises  and 
putrifying  sores/'*  Although  it  by  no  means  invariably 
followed  that  the  lepers  of  Israel  were  afflicted  with  their 
dire  plague  in  consequence  of  personal  sin,  yet  we  know 
also  this  to  have  been  the  caso  in  several  recorded  instances, 
such  as  those  of  Miriam,  Ge>.asi,  and  Uzziah,  At  all  events 
the  disease  was  regarded  by  the  Jews  cs  a  mark  of  the  Divine 
displeasure.  They  spoke  of  it  as  "the  finger  of  God."^  It 
was  considered  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  inward  dis- 
organisation, guilt,  and  impurity. 

But  more  than  this — it  was  the  sign  of  "  DEATH."  The 
prayer  of  Aaron,  in  behalf  of  Miriam,  was,  "  Let  her  not  be 
•is  one  'dead,'  of  whom  the  flesh  is  half  consumed. "J  By 
the  express  injunctions  contained  in  tl  e  Levitical  law,  the 
Leper  was  obliged  to  attire  himself  in  the  garments  of  death. 
He  had  to  wear  rent  clothes,  the  garb  which  mourners  were 
in  the  habit  of  putting  on  for  the  dead.  His  head  was  to  be 
bare,  his  upper  lip  covered — tokens  also  of  grief  for  the  dead. 
*  Isaiah  i.  6.  f  See  Trench,  in  loc.  J  Numbers  xii.  12. 


THE  ExCUKABLE  CUEED.  59 

He  was  to  reckon  himself  thus  a  dead  man.  He  wore  these 
funereal  trappings,  as  if  bewailing  his  own  dissolution — a 
walking  sepulchre — a  living  corpse  in  a  world  of  living  men. 
His  befitting  exclamation  might  be,  "  0  wretched  man  that  I 
am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of  death  ?  " 

A  learned  writer,  who  has  sifted  this  subject  in  all  its 
bearings,  informs  us  that  this  idea  of  leprosy  as  an  emblem 
of  Death,  not  only  lingered  in  the  Middle  Ages  among 
the  Jews,  but  was  transplanted,  during  the  Crusades,  along 
with  the  disease  itself,  into  Europe  and  Christendom,  where 
"  it  was  usual  to  clothe  the  leper  in  a  shroud,  and  to  say  for 
him  the  masses  for  the  dead/'* 

The  same  parabolic  meaning  and  intention  may  be  still 
further  traced  in  the  rites  employed  on  the  occasion  of  cleans- 
ing a  leper.  These  were  precisely  what  were  appointed  for 
cleansing  one  who  had  been  defiled  by  contact  with  a  dead 
foody — "  the  hyssop,  the  cedar- wood,  and  scarlet :  "  thus  not 
only  identifying  leprosy  with  Death,  but  making  restoration 
from  it  an  image  of  life  from  the  dead — a  visible  sign  of 
what  is  thus  translated  into  gospel  language,  "  You  hath  He 
quickened  who  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  in  sins." 

And  to  complete  this  terrible  picture  of  the  figurative  and 
symbolic  meaning  of  leprosy,  the  Leper  was  solemnly  forbidden 
to  enter  the  camp  or  city  of  God.  This  living  impersonation 
of  vileness  and  death  was  not  allowed  to  stand  in  the  temple 
courts,  or  mingle  in  the  solemn  festivals  of  Israel. — Nor  was 
there  any  exemption — Miriam,  the  sister  of  Moses — Uzziah, 
with  his  kingly  crown — had  both  to  bow  calmly  to  the  stern 
statute.  "  God  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living" 
•  See  Trench,  p.  214. 


60  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Ho  thus  solemnly  declared,  by  debarring  the  ceremonially  un-* 
clean  from  His  holy  camp  and  His  holy  City,  that  "  evil  can- 
not dwell  with  Him — that  fools  cannot  stand  in  His  presence" 
— that  He  cannot  "  look  upon  sin  but  with  abhorrence ; " — 
nay,  by  exclusion  from  the  earthly  Jerusalem  courts,  He  would 
dimly  shadow  forth  the  awful  truth,  that  into  the  courts  of  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem  nothing  shall  be  admitted  that  "  defileth, 
neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination  or  maketh  a  lie."* 

Solemn,  indeed,  was  that  journey  which  the  Hebrew  of  old 
undertook,  when,  on  the  first  appearance  of  the  suspicious 
taint-spot  (the  possible  precursor  of  a  life  of  misery  and 
shame),  he  hastened  to  God's  appointed  priest  to  submit, to 
the  testing  scrutiny !  If,  after  careful  examination,  the 
worst  fears  were  realised — how  agonising  the  moment  when, 
in  exchange  for  his  wonted  garment,  the  rent  habiliments  of 
death  were  fastened  upon  him,  his  head  shaved,  his  lip 
covered,  and  the  mournful  plaint  put  into  his  mouth,  with 
which  he  was,  in  all  time  to  come,  to  warn  every  human  foot- 
step away,  "  Unclean  !  unclean  ! "  Even  if  there  had  been 
the  dim  possibility  of  some  subsequent  cure,  the  bitterness  of 
that  hour  would  have  been  mitigated ;  but,  superadded  to 
all  the  other  terrible  features  in  the  malady,  was  its  inveteracy. 
The  door  of  hope  (so  far  as  human  remedies  were  concerned) 
was  closed  on  the  hapless  victim  ;  he  was  left  to  weep  tears 
of  disconsolate  despair !  Unless  by  some  special  interven- 
tion of  Divine  power,  he  was  a  Leper  to  the  day  of  his  death. 
The  grave  alone  would  close  and  terminate  his  sufferings. 
The  disease  was  irremediable — ineradicable! 

Have  any,  who  read  these  pages,  the  leprosy  of  unforgiven 

*  The  reader  is  referred  to  Mr  Trench's  entire  dissertation  on  this  subject. 


THE  INCURABLE  CURED.  61 

and  uncancelled  guilt  still  cleaving  to  their  souls  ?  Mark 
this  terrible  picture  of  Sin — this  Parable  and  Sacrament  of 
death  ! — You  are  living  a  life  of  death,  "  dead  while  you  live." 
Mourners  are  going  about  the  streets  lamenting  their  dead. 
"  Weep  not  for  them,  but  weep  for  yourselves/'  Let  the  dead 
bury  their  dead  !  Their  funeral  hour,  the  rites  of  sepulture, 
are  soon  over.  But  if  you  continue  in  your  present  state, 
what  is  Life  to  you,  but  a  long  funeral  procession  ?  You  are 
bearing  within  you  a  dead  soul,  coffined  in  a  dying  body ! 
Your  throbbing  heart,  like  a  muffled-drum,  beating  "funeral 
marches  to  the  grave ! "  Think  of  this,  ye  who  are  content  to 
live  on  in  your  natural  condition,  unwashed,  unjustified,  tin- 
sanctified.  LIFE — the  only  thing  worth  calling  life — the  life  of 
God  in  the  soul — extinct.  "  Sin,  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth 
forth  death."  Saddest  of  all,  you  stand,  like  the  Leper,  self- 
excluded  and  self-exiled  from  fellowship  with  God — an  iso- 
lated being,  debarred  from  sympathy  and  association  with  all 
that  is  holy  and  happy  in  the  universe.  It  is  bad  enough 
when  a  man  is  avoided  by  his  fellows — when,  like  another 
Cain,  a  brand  is  set  upon  his  brow,  and  he  has  to  flee  society, 
to  shrink  in  cowering  shame  from  its  glance.  But  what  is 
that,  compared  to  the  fearful  position  of  being  exile  and  out- 
cast from  God  and  angels — from  heaven  and  holiness — from 
peace  and  love — to  be  tmbefriended  by  that  Great  Being, 
whose  smile  is  happiness,  whose  glance  of  unutterable  wrath 
is  worse  than  death  ! 

Oh,  when  I  wish  a  picture  of  the  terriblencss  of  sin — when 
I  seek  in  old  Palestine — that  land  of  i/pe  and  parable — for 
some  awful  symbol  or  memento  of  God's  abhorrence  of  guilt 
— I  may  see  it  in  the  fig-tree  on  the  road  to  Bethphage, 


62  MEMORIES  OF  GENKESAKET. 

scarred  and  blighted,  with  its  coiled  leaves  and  blasted  stem; 
I  may  see  it  in  the  terrible  desolation  reigning  on  the  Dead 
Sea  shores  ;  I  may  hear  it  in  the  roll  of  its  briny  waves,  as 
they  fret  and  murmur  on  the  cheerless  beach,  telling  the  end- 
less story  of  submerged  cities  and  of  retributive  vengeance. 
But,  more  terrible  and  impressive  still,  when  I  stand  on  one 
of  the  by-ways  of  Galilee,  and  hearken  to  a  parable  spoken  by 
that  wretched  outcast,  with  his  squalid  tatters  and  uncovered 
head,  shut  out  from  the  gladsome  light  of  other  homes, 
doomed  to  listen  to  no  music  but  the  sad  wail  of  tortured 
bodies  and  broken  spirits  like  his  own — standing  afar  off  from 
the  camp  of  God,  friends  and  relatives  shrinking  back  at  his 
approach,  the  trappings  and  memorials  of  death  indicating 
that  the  King  of  Terrors  has  already  set  his  foot  upon  him, 
and  claimed  him  as  his  prey !  Terrible  emblem  surely  of  that 
gulph  of  separation  which  yawns,  unbridged,  between  God 
and  the  sinner !  Infinite  Purity  hiding  His  face  from  infinite 
guilt — disowning  the  very  being  He  made  once  after  His  own 
image,  because  he  has  disowned  Him; — leaving  him  to  the  ty- 
ranny of  his  own  sins,  consigning  him,  because  he  has  consigned 
himself,  to  the  terrors  of  the  first  and  second  death  in  one ! 

And  add  to  all,  that  this  sin  of  yours  is  incurable  by 
human  hand  or  human  skill,  as  the  leprosy  of  old  laughed  to 
scorn  the  power  and  skill  and  art  of  man.  God  alone,  by  a 
special  act  of  mercy,  could  arrest  the  malady.  "When  Naaman 
came  to  the  king  of  Israel  to  demand  a  cure,  the  reply  of  the 
monarch  indicated  who  alone  had  power  to  grant  his  request, 
" Am  I  God  to  kill  and  to  make  alive,  that  this  man  doth 
send  unto  ine  to  recover  a  man  of  his  leprosy  ?"*  It  is  the 

*  2  Kings  v.  7. 


THE  INCURABLE  CUBED.  63 

same  with  Sin — it  is  incurable  by  earthly  agency.  An  ocean 
of  tears  cannot  cleanse  it ;  human  virtues  and  merits  and 
penances  cannot  eradicate  its  deep,  dark  blot.  Man  or  angel, 
beast  of  the  earth,  creeping  thing  or  flying  fowl,  "  the  cattle 
on  a  thousand  hills,  and  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil " — all 
would  be  of  no  avail  to  purchase  freedom  from  the  polluting 
taint.  No  hand  but  One  can  be  stretched  forth  to  save  ;  no 
voice  but  One  can  bid  the  terrible  scourge  away  !  "  LOUD, 
be  merciful  to  me ;  heal  my  soul,  for  I  have  sinned  against 
thee." 

Ah,  if  the  leprosy-spot  of  sin  be  washed  from  our  souls — 
if  the  sentence  of  death  recorded  within  us  be  obliterated, 
and  the  new  life,  the  Life  of  God,  be  begun  in  our  hearts,  this, 
this  shall  be  our  befitting  confession,  "  THOU  hast  delivered 
my  soul  from  death,  mine  eyes  from  tears,  and  my  feet  from 
falling.  I  will  walk  before  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  the 
living/'  "  The  living — even  the  living,  he  shall  praise  THEE, 
as  I  do  this  day ! " 

Ere  we  leave  this  memory  of  Tiberias,  let  us  ponder,  for  our 
own  spiritual  profit  and  encouragement,  two  features  here 
specially  noticeable  in  the  conduct  of  the  poor  outcast  who 
cast  himself  at  his  Lord's  feet 

I.  Mark  his  Prayer — "LORD!"  Prayer  arrests  the  ear  of 
God.  The  lispings  of  this  castaway  are  heard  by  the  Helper 
of  all  the  helpless.  Though  wearied  and  exhausted  with 
uttering  a  lengthened  sermon,  and  though  eager  multitudes 
are  thronging  around  Him,  one  voice,  and  that  of  the  most 
wretched  of  Galileans,  stays  the  footsteps  of  Jesus,  draws  a 
tear  to  His  eye,  and  words  of  mercy  from  His  lips. 


G4  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Reader,  learn  the  Power  of  Prayer.  Christ's  hand  is  never 
shortened,  His  ear  is  never  heavy.  He  is  no  longer,  indeed, 
personally  nigh,  as  He  was  at  Gennesaret;  we  cannot,  as  the 
Leper  did,  gaze  on  His  countenance  and  bathe  His  feet  with 
our  tears ;  but  faith  can  make  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes  and 
the  mount  of  Heaven  equally  near.  Science  is  in  these  our 
days  completing  her  vastest  prodigy,  by  bringing  the  Old  and 
the  New  World  within  whispering  distance,  defying  three 
thousand  miles  of  ocean  to  arrest  the  secret  in  its  transit. 
But  mightier  far  is  the  agency  spoken  of  here.  Prayer,  swift 
as  the  electric  spark  or  volleyed  lightning,  enters  the  ear  of 
the  God  of  Sabaoth.  The  message  sent  to  Heaven  is  heard 
while  we  are  yet  speaking,  and  comes  back  fraught  with 
blessings  of  peace  and  love  and  mercy. 

Love  Prayer — love  to  haunt  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes,  the 
Mount  of  Blessings.  Make  the  most,  too,  of  the  opportunities 
for  prayer  while  you  have  them.  If  the  Leper  had  suffered 
Jesus  to  pass  now  unapproached  and  unsolicited,  he  might 
never  again  have  found  Him  traversing  that  way.  If  the  cry 
of  prayer  had  not  now  been  uttered,  he  might  have  been  doomed 
to  return  to  his  wretched  home,  to  languish  out  the  dregs  of 
existence  in  hopeless  despair.  "  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  He 
may  be  found,  call  ye  upon  Him  while  He  is  near." 

The  time  of  Sickness  is  such  a  pathway  where  Jesus  may 
be  met ;  the  hour  of  Bereavement  is  such  a  meeting-place 
with  Jesus;  the  House  of  prayer  is  one  of  the  pathways  the 
Saviour  loves  to  frequent ;  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  Jesus  comes 
down  from  his  Mount  of  Beatitudes,  scattering  blessings  as 
He  passes.  Remember  each  Sabbath  may  be  His  last — His 
concluding  journey — the  last  time  you  can  cast  yourself  at 


THE  INCURABLE  CURED.  65 

His  feet  and  implore  His  mercy.  He  loved  the  mount  of 
Prayer  Himself.  Up  that  very  ravine  ofttimes  did  He  wander 
to  make  tl.o  "  mountain  apart "  His  oratory ;  be  it  so  with 
you  ;  delight  often  to  follow  His  steps,  ascending  the  hill  of 
the  Lord,  saying,  "  I  will  get  me  to  the  mountain  of  niyrrh, 
and  the  hill  of  frankincense. " 

II.  Mark  the  Leper's  Faith,  "If  Thou  wilt,  Thou  canst!'' 
He  believed  (and  it  is  all  the  sinner  requires  to  feel  in  cast- 
ing himself  at  his  Saviour's  feet),  Jesus'  ability  to  effect 
his  cure — "  THOU  CANST."  He  was  convinced  that  the  omni- 
potent Prophet  of  Galilee  had  only  to  utter  the  word,  and 
the  pangs  of  a  dreary  and  dismal  life  would  cease  for  ever. 

"  Human  power/'  he  seems  to  say,  "  and  human  skill  are 
to  me  of  no  avail ;  I  have  tried  every  species  of  human  cure, 
I  have  applied  every  balsam ;  I  have  sought,  like  Naaman, 
the  waters  of  Israel,  I  have  plunged  again  and  again  in 
Jordan's  healing  streams,  but  all  in  vain ;  still  '  the  whole 
head  is  sick,  the  whole  heart  is  faint/  Jesus  of  Nazareth! 
I  come  to  Thee,  believing  that  Thy  word  is  mightier  than  all 
the  waters  of  Syria  or  Israel.  There  is  a  Physician  before 
me  who  is  better  than  the  balm  of  Gilead.  Oh,  Thou  who 
canst  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  and  proclaim  liberty  to 
the  captives,  give  me  'beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for 
mourning!'  Lord,  save  me!  else  I  perish." 

It  is  enough — "Jesus  put  forth  His  hand  and  touched  him, 
saying,  I  will,  be  thou  clean,  and  immediately  his  leprosy 
departed  from  him." 

One  point  remains  still  to  be  noticed.    Jesus  enjoined  him 

E 


G6  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESAKET. 

to  "  go  straightway  and  shew  himself  to  the  priest,  offering 
the  gift  that  Moses  commanded."*  What  meant  this  closing 
injunction? 

\Ve  find,  on  reference  to  the  Jewish  law,  that  after  the 
restored  leper  had  satisfied  the  priest  of  an  effectual  cure 
having  been  wrought,  this  minister  of  God  was  appointed  to 
take  two  birds.  The  one  was  to  be  killed,  and  its  blood 
poured  into  an  earthen  vessel  filled  with  running  water ;  the 
other,  tied  with  a  scarlet  thread  and  bunch  of  hyssop  to  a 
stick  of  cedar,  was  to  be  dipped  into  the  earthen  pitcher 
containing  the  mingled  blood  and  water.  With  this  the 
leper  was  sprinkled  seven  times,  and  then  the  living  bird 
was  set  free  to  join  its  mates; — a  significant  emblem  or 
symbol  that  the  leper  was  now  at  liberty  to  resume  that  in- 
tercourse with  his  fellows,  which,  on  account  of  his  disease, 
had  been  long  suspended. 

Who  can  fail,  in  all  this,  to  see  a  far  deeper  and  more 
touching  significancy  ?  That  bleeding  bird,  slain  by  the 
officiating  priest,  was  a  striking  type  and  emblem  of  a  nobler 
Sacrifice — blood  of  a  nobler  Victim,  shed  to  wash  out  a  moral 
taint,  of  which  the  leprosy  (terrible  as  it  was)  was  but  a 
feeble  shadow.  Who  can  fail  to  have  suggested  (in  the 
mingled  contents  of  that  earthen  vessel)  the  recollection  of 
the  spear  of  old  which  pierced  the  side  of  the  Innocent,  and 
from  which  flowed  out  a  running  stream  of  "blood  and 
water?" 

But  what  of  the  other  Bird,  bound  with  its  mysterious 
hyssop-bunch  and  ligament  of  red  scarlet  thread,  and  which 
was  immersed  in  the  crimson  flood?     We  cannot  mistake  it 
*  Matt.  viii.  4. 


THE  INCURABLE  CURED  67 

Here,  surely,  is  the  type  of  the  Sinner  wearing  the  bonds  and 
fastenings  of  the  everlasting  covenant,  plunged  in  the  Foun- 
tain of  blood — that  fountain  "  opened  for  sin  and  for  unclean- 
ness."  Lo !  he  is  free.  That  bird  of  old,  fluttering  and 
struggling  in  terror,  flew  away  from  the  scene  of  death ! 
With  joyous  wing  it  soared  with  its  fellows  up  in  the  blue 
heavens,  or  perched  with  them  on  its  native  branches  in  the 
nearest  thicket ! 

Beauteous  emblem  of  the  Sinner!  "The  Son  has  made 
him  free,  and  he  is  free  indeed."  The  blood  and  water  have 
effected  "the  double  cure:"  the  one  justifies,  the  other 
sanctifies — the  one  delivers  him  from  the  guilt,  the  other 
from  the  pollution  of  sin.  And  now  behold  that  once  terri- 
fied spirit,  with  wings  soiled  and  plumage  ruffled,  soaring 
upwards  and  onwards  on  the  pinions  of  faith,  and  hope,  and 
gospel  freedom,  singing  up  to  heaven's  gate  its  untiring  song, 
"  Unto  Him  that  loved  me  and  washed  me  from  my  sins  in 
His  own  blood,  to  Him  be  glory  and  praise  for  ever  and  ever." 

Yes ;  "  to  Him  that  washed  me."  There  was  the  special 
feature  in  that  wondrous  type :  the  bird — the  live  bird — 
dipped  in  the  blood  of  his  fellow  !  It  was  not  a  bird  dipped 
in  the  blood  of  lamb  or  goat,  but  in  the  blood  of  one  of  its 
own  mates — one  that  had  been  nurtured,  it  may  be,  in  the 
same  nest,  or  that  had  perched  and  sung  with  it  on  the  same 
bough  ! 

Precious  truth — Jesus  our  Fellow-Nan  !  The  blood  in 
which  our  souls  are  washed  is  the  blood  not  of  incarnate 
Archangel  or  incarnate  Seraph,  but  blood  that  flowed  from  a 
human  side  and  human  veins — from  the  Brother  and  the 
Friend  of  the  race,  THE  MAN  Christ  Jesus. 


C8  MEMOBIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

The  fellows  of  the  Leper  of  old,  his  very  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, fled  from  him.  Not  so  our  Fellow-Man,  our 
Brother  on  the  Throne.  He  "  commended  His  love  toward 
us,  in  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners "  (lepers)  He  died  for  us.* 
Are  we  ushered  into  this  glorious  liberty  wherewith  Christ 
makes  His  people  free?  Sprinkled  with  the  twofold  emblem 
of  blood  and  water,  are  we  spreading  our  wings,  the  wings  of 
faith  and  prayer,  heavenwards,  singing  the  new  song,  "  We  are 
no  more  strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fellow-citizens  with  the 
saints  and  of  the  household  of  God?"  Beware  of  defiling  your- 
selves with  the  leprous  taint  of  Sin.  It  is  contaminating — 
infectious.  Its  tendency  is  to  spread ;  it  will  eat  into  the 
vital  principle.  If  permitted,  it  will  destroy  the  life  of  God 
in  the  soul. 

Keep  near  the  atoning  Fountain ;  be  ever  repairing  to  your 
"  Fellow's  blood."  The  scarlet  thread,  the  mark  and  badge  of 
covenant  mercy,  has  been  put  upon  you ;  "  Stand  fast,  there- 
fore, in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath  made  you  free." 

*  This  recalls  the  touching  story  of  the  Moravian  missionaries  entering  a 
Lazaretto.  They  knew  the  consequences  of  crossing  that  fatal  portico — once 
within  the  gate,  and,  by  a  severe  but  perhaps  necessary  law,  to  avoid  spreading 
infection,  they  never  could  return.  These  self-denying  men  counted  the  cost — 
life,  friends,  home,  the  world — all  was  forsaken  that  they  might  enter  the  terrible 
threshold,  and  unfold  the  news  of  salvation  to  the  wretched  inmates.  "  Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this."  But  the  love  of  the  God-Man  to  sinners  in  a 
leper-world  was  greater  still. 

The  lines  in  Cowper's  simple  but  beautiful  typical  hymn  set  forth  briefly  the 
gospel  meaning  of  this  rite — 

"  Dipp'd  in  his  fellow's  blood, 

The  living  bird  went  free ; 
The  type,  well  understood, 

Express'd  the  sinner's  plea; 
Described  a  guilty  soul  enlarged, 
And  by  a  Saviour's  death  discharged.* 


THE  LNCUKABLE  CUHED.  (>y 

If  there  be  one  Eeader  of  these  pages  who  feels  that,  by 
reason  of  sin  (it  may  be  some  recent  plague-spot),  he  is  a 
spiritual  Leper — some  deep,  dark  blot  defiling  the  conscience, 
the  sense  of  pardon  obscured,  the  Divine  face  hidden — 
standing  thereby  excluded  from  the  camp  of  God ;  go  forth- 
with to  the  running  stream — the  perennial  Fountain  with  its 
crimson  tide — adopt  as  your  own,  the  prayer  of  a  sin-stricken 
Penitent,  who  had  the  leper  and  his  cure  in  view  when  he 
uttered  it — "  Purge  me  with  hyssop  and  I  shall  be  clean ; 
yea,  wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  the  snow.  Make 
me  to  hear  joy  and  gladness,  that  the  bones  which  thou 
hast  broken  may  rejoice." 


VI 

er  mtfo  |ns 


I  mark'd  a  rainbow  in  the  north, 

What  time  the  wild  autumnal  sun 
From  his  dark  veil  at  noon  look'd  forth, 

As  glorying  in  his  course  half-done, 
*  *  *  *  » 

Light  flashes  in  the  gloomiest  sky, 

And  music  ia  the  dullest  plain; 

For  there  the  lark  is  soaring  high, 

Over  her  flat  and  leafless  reign. 
*  *  *  *  * 

Brighter  than  rainbow  in  the  north, 

More  cheery  than  the  matin  lark, 
Is  the  soft  gleam  of  Christian  worth, 

Which  on  some  holy  house  we  mark. 

"  And  when  Jesus  was  entered  into  Capernaum,  there  came  unto  Him  a  cen- 
turion, beseeching  Him,  and  saying,  Lord,  my  servant  lieth  at  hotue  sick  o "  the 
palsy,  grievously  tormented.  And  Je^us  saith  unto  him,  I  will  come  and  heal 
him." — AlAxr.  viii.  5-14 ;  LUKS  vii.  1-11. 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE. 

"  THE  Sun  of  Righteousness  "  had  arisen  on  "  Galilee  of  the 
Gentiles/'  the  region  and  shadow  of  death,  with  "  healing  in 
His  wings."  From  the  summit  of  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes, 
"  to  the  poor  "  the  Gospel  had  been  preached.  On  the  plain 
at  its  base,  or  by  the  shores  of  the  Lake,  a  Leper  had  been 
cleansed.  And  now,  no  sooner  had  the  Divine  Philanthropist 
entered  "  His  own  city,"  than  a  new  suitor  is  at  His  feet. 
A  Roman  officer,  whose  servant  was  stretched  on  a  couch  of 
pain  and  death,  comes  to  receive  fresh  proof  of  the  Divine 
benediction,  so  recently  uttered — "  Blessed  are  the  merciful, 
for  they  shall  obtain  mercy." 

Let  us  look,  FIRST,  to  the  Suppliant's  previous  History. 

He  was  "a  Centurion/'  or  captain  in  the  army  of  Herod — 
stationed  with  a  hundred  men  under  his  command  in  the  bar- 
racks at  Capernaum.  We  know  nothing  as  to  how  long  he 
had  been  resident  in  this  town  of  Galilee.  While  there, 
however,  he  had  become  a  Gentile  proselyte.  In  his  inter- 
course with  the  Jewish  mind,  he  had  been  led  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  true  God.  The  bewildering  Polytheism,  the  ancestral 
Religion  of  his  own  land,  into  which  he  had  been  initiated  in 
youth,  with  its  "  lords  many  and  gods  many" — the  heartless 
vices  and  growing  profligacy  of  Roman  manners — contrasted 
unfavourably  with  the  sublime  simplicity  of  the  worship  of 
Israel's  one  Jehovah,  and  the  lofty  morality  inculcated  by 
the  Mosaic  law.  Had  religion  been  with  him  merely  a  step- 


72  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

ping-stone  in  professional  advancement — life  a  struggle  for  pay 
and  place — to  stand  well  at  the  government  Palace  of  Cesarea 
and  Tiberias,  he  had  only  to  become  the  sycophant  of  Herod, 
to  swear  by  the  gods  of  Olympus  and  the  Capitol,  and 
plunge  into  the  vices  of  these  libertine  courts. 

But  in  that  vast  Roman  empire,  God  was  preparing  many 
minds  for  a  kingdom  whose  glory  and  vastness  the  Csesar 
had  never  dreamt  of.  One  of  these  "hidden  ones"  was  this 
Capernaum  soldier.  He  looked  beyond  the  glitter  and  page- 
antry of  earthly  pomp  and  power  to  more  enduring  realities, 
and  sought  to  have  the  yawning  gulph  of  his  heart's  deep 
necessities  filled  with  the  great,  the  good,  and  the  true.  The 
simple  yet  sublime  revelations  of  the  Hebrew  theology,  had 
thrown  a  flood  of  light  on  his  path,  and  resolved  many  per- 
plexities and  doubts,  whose  solution  he  had  vainly  sought 
in  his  own  mythological  systems.  An  alien  by  birthright, 
he  became  by  faith  a  child  of  Abraham  ;  a  stranger  and 
foreigner,  he  had  become  a  fellow- citizen  with  the  household 
of  God  ;  and,  better  still,  he  lived  under  the  influential 
power  of  that  religion  which  he  had  espoused  as  his  creed. 

We  are  called  upon  here  to  observe,  very  notably  in  his 
case,  how  true  Piety  ennobles  and  elevates  the  character. 
Moralities — native  virtues  and  amiabilities,  indeed,  may  exist 
independent  of  religion,  but  these  are  purified  and  sanctified 
by  grace.  Religion  dignifies  the  whole  man.  A  landscape 
beautiful  in  itself,  is  glorified  by  sunlight.  Natural  virtues 
may,  in  themselves,  be  lovely  and  of  good  report ;  but  when 
the  soul  in  its  actions  and  motives  is  pervaded  and  renovated 
by  grace,  it  is  like  that  same  landscape  bathed  in  sunshine, 
sparkling  with  a  glory  and  beauty  unpossessed  before.  Thus 


THE  SOLDIEE  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  73 

did  the  fear  of  God  operate  in  the  case  of  this  centurion.  It 
made  him  a  better  Man,  a  better  Friend,  a  better  Master,  and 
perhaps  a  better  Soldier  too. 

Let  us  look  to  two  of  these  attributes  as  illustrated  in  the 
narrative  we  are  now  considering. 

(1.)  He  was  a  good-neighbour.  " He  loveth  our  nation, 
and  hath  built  us  a  synagogue ;  "  or,  literally,  "  He  hatli 
built  the  synagogue  for  us." 

Rooted  was  the  hatred  and  scorn  with  which  pagan  nations 
regarded  the  nation  of  Israel  But  this  man  had  been  taught, 
for  its  own  and  "  the  Fathers'  sakes,"  to  love  it ;  and  he  gave 
the  most  substantial  proof  of  the  reality  of  this  affection,  for 
in  the  centre  of  Capernaum,  or  close  by  the  shores  of  the 
Lake,  rose  conspicuous  the  one  Synagogue  of  the  town — a 
strange  and  unwonted  memorial  for  a  Gentile  Roman  to 
raise  at  his  own  expense. 

See  here  how  religion  makes  the  soul  unselfish !  Many  a 
man,  if  he  be  well  personally,  is  indifferent  how  his  neigh- 
bour or  the  world  fares.  Perhaps  unloved  and  uncared  for 
himself,  he  thinks  there  is  the  less  call  upon  him  to  love  or 
care  for  others.  He  is  in  the  midst  of  those  who  have  no 
great  claim  upon  him.  He  is  too  glad  of  the  excuse  or 
apology  for  steering  clear  of  what  would  touch  his  means,  or 
invade  his  time,  or  burden  him  with  new  cares  and  responsi- 
bilities. It  is  the  old  plea,  "  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ?" 
"  No  !  I  will  live  for  myself — I  will  clutch  my  gold  the  faster, 
and  die  amid  hoards  of  plenty.  I  am  a  Gentile — the  blood 
of  old  Romulus  is  in  my  veins — the  memory  of  a  proud  line 
of  heroes  is  my  heir-loom.  What  care  I  for  these  dogs  of 
Jews,  these  bigot  Hebrews  ?  I  shall  do  Caesar's  work,  and 


74*  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESAKET. 

pocket  Caesar's  pay.  I  shall  rear  my  villa  on  this  lake,  and 
have  my  yacht  on  its  waters.  I  shall  put  to  shame  Herod's 
courtiers  in  the  luxuries  of  my  table,  and  the  splendours  of 
my  retinue.  What  concern  have  I  with  these  boors  of 
Galilee  ?  I  am  sent  to  curb  their  turbulent  spirit.  I  will 
render  to  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Coesar's.  What  have  I  to 
do  with  rendering  to  their  God  the  things  that  are  God's  ? " 

So  speak  many  now,  but  so  spake  not  this  Great  and  Good 
Centurion.  He  had  riches,  and  he  would  use  these  riches, 
not  for  self  or  sin,  but  for  the  glory  of  that  great  Eeing  he 
had  been  led  to  revere.  After  consecrating  his  own  soul 
as  a  living  temple  of  faith,  and  love,  and  grateful  obedience, 
he  had  upreared  a  sanctuary  wherein  his  poorer  fellow- 
citizens  might  serve  the  God  of  their  fathers,  and  where  they 
might  read  and  hear  that  law  which  had  made  Him  wiser 
and  better  than  all  his  heathen  teachers.  The  Roman  soldier 
was  sent  to  repress  and  subjugate  by  the  sword,  but  the 
sword  was  sheathed,  and  he  conquered  by  the  weapon  of 
kindness.  He  loved  the  nation  he  had  been  taught  from  his 
infancy  to  hate,  and  the  God  he  served  was  now  about  to 
make  good  in  his  experience  the  old  promise,  "  Them  that 
bless  Israel  I  will  bless/' 

Himself  and  his  servant  being  both  by  birth  heathens,  he 
felt  as  if  he  dared  not  personally  approach  the  great  Jewish 
Teacher.  But  he  asks  and  willingly  obtains  the  intervention 
of  the  elders  of  the  city.  He  had  proved  to  them  a  kind 
neighbour  and  generous  benefactor.  They  are  glad  now  of 
an  opportunity  of  reciprocating  his  offices  of  regard.  Though 
his  presence  in  their  town  as  an  officer  of  the  Eoman  army 
was  a  badge  of  their  political  servitude  and  degradation,  yet 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  75 

the  law  of  gratitude  and  love  triumphs  over  all  party  jeal- 
ousies and  national  animosities.  They  joyfully  undertake 
the  task  of  mediators  and  hasten  with  his  errand  to  the 
Saviour's  feet.  The  words  of  Jesus  that  morning  on  the 
Mount  of  Beatitudes  had  scarce  died  away,  when  they  re- 
ceived, in  the  case  of  the  Centurion,  a  touching  fulfilment : — 
"Love  ye  your  enemies,  and  do  good,  hoping  for  nothing 
again ;  and  your  reward  shall  be  great,  and  ye  shall  be  the 
children  of  the  Highest."* 

(2.)  He  was  a  kind  Master.  The  Synagogue-building 
might  have  been  a  piece  of  Roman  ostentation — the  monu- 
ment which  a  vain  man  had  erected  in  a  foreign  land  to 
perpetuate  his  name,  and  secure  for  himself  a  brief  remem- 
brance. It  might  have  been  even  worse :  it  might  have  been 
erected  by  the  old  Roman  on  the  principle  of  later  Roman- 
ists— as  the  price  of  a  monster  "indulgence/'  a  sop  where- 
with to  quiet  conscience  and  hush  suspicion,  in  the  midst 
of  vice,  extortion,  and  profligacy.  But  far  different  was 
it  in  his  case.  The  outer  deeds  of  generosity  and  munifi- 
cence had  their  counterpart  in  goodness  of  heart  and  a  holy 
life.  We  follow  him  within  the  sacred  threshold  of  his  own 
homestead.  Ifc  is  all  that  we  could  have  expected ; — in 
happy  conformity  with  his  public  character.  The  love 
whose  field  was  the  Jewish  nation,  had  its  centre  and  focus 
in  the  domestic  hearth. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  beautiful  and  touching  picture  which  is 
here  presented  to  us :   An  Officer  seated  by  the  bedside  of 
his  suffering  servant,  who  was  racked  with  torturing  pain, 
"grievously  tonnc^ed" — "  ready  to  die." 
*  Luke  vi.  35. 


7u  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

Death  at  all  times  is  a  solemn  thing.  Who  better  able  to 
brave  it  than  was  the  iron  soldier  of  old  Rome,  familiar  with 
it  as  he  was,  under  its  most  fearful  forms  ?  But  it  is  one 
thing  to  face  it  in  the  hour  of  battle — boldly  to  die  a  hero's 
death — and  another  to  watch  the  slow  and  stealthy  footstep 
of  the  grim  Destroyer,  as  he  creeps  into  our  loved  circles, 
and  threatens  to  drag  endeared  inmates  down  to  the  abode  of 
everlasting  silence.  That  ghastly  enemy  confronts  him  now 
face  to  face,  and  threatens  to  sweep  away  "  one  dear  to  him  " 
(or,  as  the  word  means,  "highly  valued/'  eWfyuo?).  Though 
that  valued  one  was  but  a  slave,  occupying  a  different  rela- 
tion to  his  Roman  master  from  what  the  British  servant  does 
to  a  British  master,  we  may  well  come  and  sit  at  the  feet  of 
this  "Good  Centurion/''  and  learn  lessons  of  kindness  and 
affection  to  our  inferiors  and  dependents. 

Is  there  not  a  solemn  reproof  and  reprimand  to  many  a 
master  and  mistress,  in  the  tear  that  stood  in  that  Soldier's 
eye,  and  the  heaving  emotions  that  struggled  for  utterance 
in  his  bosom,  as  he  sat,  night  by  night,  at  the  couch  of 
his  slave,  and  sought  by  word  and  deed  to  alleviate  his 
sufferings?  Pure  religion  and  imdcfiled  before  God  led 
him  to  stoop  to  these  offices  of  lowly  love.  That  blessed 
Redeemer,  at  whose  feet  he  was  about  to  cast  himself,  illus- 
trated, at  a  subsequent  period  of  His  ministry,  by  a  signifi- 
cant act,  this  duty  of  condescension  and  kindness — He  washed 
His  disciples'  feet.  He  told  them  to  "go  and  do  likewise;" 
and  His  whole  gospel  breathes  the  precept,  "  Condescend  to 
men  of  low  estate/' 

Let  Christian  masters  come  to  this  house  in  Capernaum, 
and  study  the  living  picture  there  presented  for  imitation. 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  77 

The  Roman  officer  felt  that  a  solemn  tie  which  neither  God 
nor  nature,  nor  the  memories  of  years,  would  suffer  him  to 
treat  lightly,  bound  him  to  that  dying  Slave.  He  might,  as 
thousands  of  old  did,  and  as  many  do  still,  profit  by  the 
toil  of  their  dependents  during  the  best  period  of  their 
lives,  aid  then,  in  sinking  health  or  failing  strength,  turn 
them  airift  on  a  cold  and  cheerless  world,  denuding  them 
of  comforts  at  the  very  time  these  are  most  needed.  We  fear 
that  in  our  own  day  such  cases  are  to  be  found ; — that  not 
a  few  are  verily  guilty  in  this  respect  concerning  their  lowly 
brother  or  sister.  If,  amid  the  pitiless  storms  and  biting 
cold  of  winter,  we  left  our  own  home  comforts,  and  visited 
many  black  and  smouldering  firesides  in  our  vicinities, 
is  it  uncharitable  to  ask,  Would  no  master  or  mistress 
stand  rebuked  at  the  bar  of  conscience  and  of  God,  by 
the  disregarded  prayer  trembling  on  quivering  lips — "  Cast 
me  not  off  in  the  time  of  old  age,  forsake  me  not  when 
my  strength  f aileth  ? " 

But  it  was  not  so  with  the  Centurion  of  Capernaum  and 
his  trusty  dependent.  Past  fidelity  is  not  thus  to  be  re- 
compensed. He  cherishes  the  remembrance  of  years  on 
years  of  faithful,  unremitting  servitude ;  and  now  he  will 
change  places  for  a  time  with  the  helpless  sufferer;  he  will  be 
himself  as  one  that  serveth,  bending  over  that  anguished 
pillow  in  offices  of  affection  and  solicitude. 

Happy  would  it  be  for  social  life  did  Religion,  more  than 
it  does,  thus  sanctify  and  hallow  the  bond  uniting  ser- 
vant and  master ! — the  Servant  working  under  the  lofty 
Christian  motive.  "  I  serve  the  Lord  Christ ; "  the  Master, 
knowing  and  remembering  that  he  has  a  "  Master  also  in 


78  11EM01UES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

heaven/' — the  spirit  at  least  remaining  of  Boaz'  salutation 
to  his  servants  as  they  reaped  his  fields  at  Bethlehem : — lie 
meeting  them  with  the  benediction,  "  The  Lord  bless  you/' 
and  they  responding,  "The  Lord  bless  thee!" 

Such,  then,  is  a  glimpse  into  the  character — the  public 
and  private  life — of  the  man  who  now  sent  the  urgent  mes- 
sage to  the  Saviour  in  behalf  of  his  servant,  and  who  follows 
up  the  mission  of  the  elders  of  the  city  by  leaving  the  sick- 
bed he  was  tending,  and  prostrating  himself  at  the  Lord's 
feet.  We  wait  with  anxiety  to  learn  the  particulars  of  this 
interview. 

Let  us  look,  first,  to  the  Centurions  address  to  the 
Saviour. 

Two  things  are  very  observable  in  his  conduc';  and  words. 

I.  Observe  his  HUMILITY — "  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that 
Thou  shouldest  come  under  my  roof." 

What  words  for  a  proud  Roman  to  address  to  a  poor  Jew ! 
The  elders  had  just,  a  little  before,  reached  Jesus  with  the 
centurion's  message,  enforcing  it  with  the  plea,  that  He  was 
worthy  for  whom  He  should  do  this.  But  different  is  the 
humble  Officer's  own  estimate:  he  felt  that  he  was  a  "sinner 
of  the  Gentiles  " — an  alien  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel — • 
having  no  heritage  in  the  covenant  promises  and  the  temporal 
blessings  therein  included. 

But  he  felt  more  than  this.  The  deep  things  of  God's  law 
had  been  revealed  to  his  inquiring  spirit.  He  was  convinced 
of  the  deficiency  and  defilement  of  his  best  obedience  and 
holiest  deeds,  and  with  no  disguised,  or  sembled,  or  counterfeit 
humility,  he  bends  in  lowliest  abasement  before  "  THE  Holy 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  79 

One"  A  higher  wall  of  separation  than  the  old  conventional 
one  between  Jew  and  Gentile,  separated  between  him  and 
Infinite  purity.  He  had,  doubtless,  become  familiar  with  the 
person  and  character  of  the  Saviour  from  His  teachings  and 
miracles  in  and  around  Capernaum.  It  may  be,  in  the  sump- 
tuous synagogue  which  his  own  munificence  had  reared,  he 
had  himself  been  spectator  of  the  cure  of  the  Demoniac.*  He 
must,  doubtless,  have  heard  of  the  miraculous  Draught.  He 
must  have  witnessed  the  results,  at  least,  of  that  wondrous 
Sabbath  evening,  when  disease,  which  in  the  morning  had 
flapped  its  gloomy  wings  over  many  a  household,  at  sunset 
fled  by  His  mighty  mandate  away.  It  is  more  than  likely, 
from  his  rank  and  position,  that  he  knew  the  nobleman 
whose  son  in  the  same  city  had  recently  experienced  the 
might  of  Christ's  omnipotent  word.-)-  Would  not  the  same 
Power  that  raised  a  son,  raise  a  Koman  bondslave  ?  "Was  he 
not  approaching  One  who  knew  no  distinction  between  Jew 
and  Greek,  barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  or  free? 

It  is,  indeed,  a  lovely  impersonation  of  Humility,  to  see  this 
scion  of  proud  Rome — a  captain  in  her  armies — one  of  those 
accustomed  to  wear  contempt  on  his  lip  whenever  the  name  of 
"  Jew  "  was  mentioned — laying  aside  the  pride  of  name  and 
rank  and  nation ;  forgetting  that  he  had  stood  among  the  mar- 
tial legions  in  the  Campus  Martius,  or  sat  a  guest  at  Herod's 
table ;  accustomed  ever  to  command,  seldom  to  obey ; — rushing 
now,  in  the  extremity  of  his  unselfish  sorrow,  to  the  feet  of  the 
homeless  Saviour — the  carpenter's  Son — the  Companion  of 
fishermen ! 

But  while  "  God  resisteth  the  proud,"  He  "  giveth  grace  to 

•  Luke  iv.  32.  t  John  iv.  46. 


80  MEMORIES  OF  GENXESAEET. 

the  humble/'  "  He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted." 
That  half  heathen  worshipper  and  suppliant  has  his  brow  to 
this  hour  wreathed  with  laurel,  which  survives  in  imperishable 
glory,  while  the  garlands  of  Roman  triumphs  and  victors 
have  faded  into  decay,  and  left  no  trace  behind.  He  has  a 
monument  in  the  hearts  of  all  loving  Masters,  and  faithful 
Servants,  and  humble-hearted  Christians.  For  "  wherever 
the  gospel  is  preached  in  all  the  world/'  there  shall  this,  that 
this  Roman  officer  hath  done,  be  told  as  a  memorial  of  him. 

II.  The  second  feature  notable  (most  notable)  in  the  Cen- 
turion's conduct,  is  his  FAITH.  Whenever  there  is  Humility, 
there  is  the  concomitant  grace  of  Faith  ;  as  a  tree  sends  its 
branches  upwards  in  proportion  as  it  strikes  its  roots  down- 
wards, so  in  proportion  as  a  man  is  deep  in  humility,  is  he 
"  strong  in  faith,  giving  glory  to  God." 

The  remarkable  feature  in  this  grace  of  the  Centurion,  and 
which  drew  such  a  tribute  regarding  it  from  the  lips  of  Omni- 
science, was — that  he  solicited  from  Jesus,  for  the  effecting  of 

O 

his  servant's  cure,  nothing  but  a  word.  Unlike  the  nobleman 
who  journeyed  to  Cana,  and  besought  Jesus  to  "  come  down" 
to  Capernaum  and  heal  his  son  (imagining  that  the  personal 
presence  of  the  Healer  by  the  sick-couch  was  indispensable), 
he  requested  no  more  than  the  mere  utterance  of  the  will  of 
Omnipotence.  He  who  of  old  said,  amid  brooding  chaos,  "Let 
there  be  light,"  had  now  but  to  give  forth  the  mam/ate,  Let 
there  be  Life,  and  returning  health  would  mantle  the  cheeks, 
and  the  palsied  hands  be  clasped  in  grateful  thanksgiving. 

Observe,  too,  as  an  interesting  feature  in  the  Soldier's  Faith, 
it  took  its  colour  and  character  from  his  Soldier-life-*-"  FOR/J 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  81 

he  adds,  "lam  a  man  under  authority,  having  soldiers  under 
me."  "  I  am  myself  a  subaltern — I  am  accustomed  to  obey 
the  Tribune,  my  superior  officer ;  and  the  soldiers  of  my  com- 
pany, in  a  similar  way,  give  prompt  obedience  to  my  orders. 
I  say  to  this  man  go,  and  he  goeth  ;  to  another  come,  and 
he  cometh ;  and  to  my  servant  do  this,  and  he  doeth  it." 

The  application  of  the  appeal  is  evident :  "  If  I,  in  this  my 
worldly  calling,  have  only  in  the  name  of  Cscsar  to  speak  and 
it  is  done — I  believe,  Lord,  it  is  much  more  so  with  Thee. 
Sickness  and  Disease  are  Thy  appointed  messengers ;  they  are 
Servants  executing  Thy  behests;  they  come  and  go  at  Thy 
command  ;  this  palsy  now  chaining  my  servant  down  to  his 
couch — bid  it  away : — trouble  not  Thyself  to  come  and  touch 
him,  but  even  here,  in  this  open  street,  utter  the  healing 
word,  and  I  know  the  result — my  servant  shall  be  healed." 

We  may  well  cease  to  wonder  at  Christ  denominating  this 
a  "great  faith."  Faith  deals  with  the  distant,  the  unseen,  the 
impalpable,  the  intangible.  It  has  been  well  defined,  "the  sub- 
stance of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen." 
We  are  ever  craving  for  the  evidence  of  sense  and  sight ;  the 
demand  of  Thomas  is  one  natural  to  these  earthly  hearts  of 
ours,  "  Except  I  SEE  ...  I  shall  not  believe."  But  "  Blessed," 
said  the  Lord,  "are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet 
have  believed."  We,  in  this  age  of  the  Church,  are  in  the 
position  of  that  sick  Servant  at  Capernaum.  To  the  eye  of 
sense  we  are  separated  from  the  Saviour.  We  see  Him 
not — we  can  touch  Him  not — the  hand  cannot  steal  amid 
the  crowd  to  catch  His  garment  hem — we  cannot  hear  His 
loved  footsteps  as  of  old  on  our  thresholds  ;  but  Faith  pene- 
trates the  invisible;  the  messenger — Prayer — meets  Him 


82  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

in  the  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem ;  and  Faith  and  Prayer 
together,  the  twin  delegates  from  His  Church  below,  He  has 
never  yet  sent  empty  away. 

Reader,  go  in  the  spirit  of  that  Faith  to  Him ;  believe  in  what 
He  has  done  and  what  He  is  still  willing  to  do.  Go,  and 
like  the  Centurion,  beseech  Him  "  instantly."  Make  the  most 
of  fleeting  opportunities.  Beware  of  abused  responsibilities. 
Do  not  wait  and  linger  until  you  effect  some  preliminary  pre- 
paration. "  Just  as  you  are,"  with  no  posture  but  that  of 
humility,  and  no  prayer  but  the  prayer  of  faith,  cast  yourself 
at  His  feet,  saying,  "  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  Thou  mine  un- 
belief • "  And  the  greater  the  measure  of  your  faith,  the  larger 
and  more  munificent  will  be  the  recompense.  Jesus  tells  the 
Soldier-suppliant  that  the  answer  vouchsafed  will  be  commen- 
surate with  the  degree  of  his  faith — "  As  thou  hast  believed, 
so  be  it  done  unto  thee." 

Having  considered  the  feelings  manifested  by  the  Roman 
Centurion  in  addressing  Jesus  in  behalf  of  his  sick  Servant, 
turn  we  now  to  the  Saviour's  comment  on  the  conduct  of  this 
noble-minded  Soldier,  and  to  those  practical  lessons  with 
which  the  subject  is  replete. 

He  announces,  in  connexion  with  this  remarkable  display 
of  faith,  The  infringing  of  ike  Gentile  nations,  "Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith,  no,  not  in  Israel. 
AND  I  say  unto  you,  That  many  shall  come  from  the  east  and 
west,  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven/'  * 

This  Roman  soldier  was  the  earnest-sheaf  of  a  mighty  har- 

•  Matt.  viii.  10,  11. 


THE  SOLDlEIt  A^D  HIS  SLAVE.  83 

vest  yet  to  be  reaped  from  heathen  lands — the  first-fruits 
of  that  vast  quarter  of  the  globe  where  Christianity  was 
in  after-ages  to  set  up  its  banners  and  gather  its  noblest 
trophies.  In  the  case  of  the  miraculous  cure  on  the  Leper, 
Jesus,  it  will  be  remembered,  "touched"  him.  That  leper  was 
a  Jew — a  Hebrew  by  birth  ;  the  "  touching  "  him,  may  be 
taken  as  emblematic  of  the  Saviour's  coming  into  personal  con- 
tact with  those  of  His  own  nation, — "He  came  to  His  own," 
though  "His  own  received  Him  not."  In  the  case  of  the  pre- 
sent miracle,  however,  there  was  no  immediate  or  personal  con- 
tact with  the  subject  of  it.  The  Saviour  spake  the  distant 
word  and  the  Koman  slave  was  cured.  May  not  this  have  been 
designed  as  emblematic  of  those  far  off  Gentiles  and  Gentile 
nations — millions  on  millions — who  were  never  permitted,  like 
Israel,  to  gaze  on  the  Incarnate  God,  but  who  were,  in  after- 
ages,  to  experience  the  power  and  potency  of  His  miraculous 
word  and  will  ? 

"Many  shall  come  and  shall  sit  down  with  Abraham!" 
Startling  utterance  this  surely  to  these  Galileans ;  only  sur- 
passed by  this  Jewish  Prophet  and  Teacher  turning  round  and 
commending  openly  to  the  crowd,  the  faith  of  a  Gentile  as 
surpassing  that  even  of  the  "peculiar  people/'  He  prefaces  it 
with  the  word  that  marks  something  strange  and  unwonted, 
"  VEIULY  I  SAY  UNTO  YOU/'  Strange,  indeed,  to  Jewish  ears 
it  was !  That  leper,  miserable  spectacle  though  he  were,  was 
descended  from  Abraham.  He  had  the  accents  of  the  Hebrew 
tongue  hanging  on  his  lips — he  might  be  able  to  point,  as 
most  Jews  were,  in  the  absence  of  any  other  heritage,  to  the 
sepulchre  where  lay  the  ashes  of  his  fathers  :  but  here  was  a 
ROMAN — the  synonym  of  Enmity,  Oppression,  profligacy;— 


8J*  MEMORIES  OF  GEJS.NESAHET. 

for,  along  with  their  conquering  standards  they  had  imported 
to  the  shores  of  that  quiet  Lake  the  crimes  and  vices  of  the 
capital.  Could  it  be  that  such  wild  olive-branches  were  to  be 
graficd  into  the  native  olive  ?  that  these  Gentile  wanderers 
are  to  be  gathered  by  the  Good  Shepherd  into  one  fold  ?  these 
peoples  so  diverse,  and  for  long  considered  so  antagonistic, 
to  be  fused  into  one  mass,  and  that  out  of  this  mass  there  is 
to  arise  the  Church  of  the  future?  Yes;  and  this  Eoman 
officer  and  his  slave  are  selected  as  the  first  of  these  "  children 
of  God  scattered  abroad  "  who  are  to  sit  down  with  Abraham, 
and  Isaac,  and  Jacob  in  the  new  kingdom — the  children  of 
Abraham's  faith,  partakers  in  Abraham's  promise,  and  finally 
to  be  sharers  in  Abraham's  glorious  reward. 

There  are  many  important  reflections  suggested  by  this 
memorable  incident — we  can  only  advert  to  two  of  these. 

First,  we  are  again  taught  the  oft-repeated  Scripture  lessen, 
that  in  every  profession  aiid  occupation  of  life,  a  man  may 
serve  God. 

How  often  are  people  apt  to  plead  their  professions  and 
worldly  engagements  as  an  apology  for  ungodliness  1  "  I 
might  have  been  a  Christian/'  say  many,  "  but  for  this  ad- 
verse position  in  which  I  am  placed  in  business.  I  might  have 
been  following  a  mother's  teachings,  and  reaping  the  blessings 
of  a  mother's  prayers;  lu,  cast  -where  I  am,  it  is  vain  to 
think  of  a  holy  walk.  I  am,  by  a  sad  necessity,  denied  the 
happiness  of  a  religious  life." 

How  different  it  was  with  this  Benign  soldier!  Not  only, 
soldier  as  he  was,  did  he  fear  God;  but,  it  is  very  observable, 
he  fed  and  nurtured  his  faith  from  his  military  habits  and 


THE  SOLDIEE,  AtfD  HIS  SLAVE.  85 

experience.  The  old  discipline  and  training  of  a  Camp-life 
read  to  him  a  high  spiritual  lesson  in  approaching  Christ — • 
"  FOR  I  am  a  man  set  under  authority/'  &c. 

Ah,  it  is  beautiful  when  a  man  thus  makes  his  trade  or 
profession,  whatever  it  be,  suggestive  of  spiritual  incentives 
and  motives  of  action  !  David,  in  the  most  imperishable  of 
poems,  made  his  Shepherd-life  beautifully  to  shadow  forth  his 
covenant  relation  to  God,  beholding  in  "the  green  pastures" 
and  "still  waters"  to  which  he  led  his  flock,  a  peaceful  image 
of  spiritual  safety  and  repose.  Listen  to  the  apostle  Paul,  "  the 
tentmaker,"  toiling  with  his  own  hands  at  the  goats'  hair  can- 
vass that  he  "  might  be  chargeable  to  no  man" — as  he  sus- 
pends his  manual  labour  to  write  an  epistle  to  the  Church  at 
Corinth,  he  borrows  from  his  homely  occupation  encourage- 
ment for  their  hearts  and  his  own,  with  regard  to  more  en- 
during "  tents  " — "  For  we  know  that  when  this  house  of  our 
earthly  tent  is  taken  down,  we  have  a  building  of  God,  an 
house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  Or,  at 
a  later  period,  "  I  am  an  ambassador  in  bonds,"  said  he,  as 
he  wrote  with  the  heavy  iron  fettering  his  hand ;  but  the 
chain  suggests  the  glorious  contrast,  "  the  word  of  God  is  not 
bound." 

And  every  profession  may  become  suggestive  of  such  and 
similar  spiritual  verities. 

Is  it  the  Husbandman  ?  He  can  read  in  the  golden  Harvest 
an  undying  type  and  pledge  of  spiritual  blessings  as  the  re- 
sult of  faith  and  earnest  diligence  in  the  heavenly  husbandry 
— that  "  in  due  season  we  shall  reap  if  we  faint  not." 

Is  it  the  Sailor  ?  Every  wave  that  wafts  him  nearer  the 
harbour  may  remind  him  of  the  vaster  Voyage  on  which  he 


86  MEMOEIES  OF  GF/XXESARET. 

is  embarked — warn  him  of  the  treacherous  storms,  and  tell  of 
the  glorious  security  of  the  heavenly  Port. 

Is  it  the  Physician?  He  is  reminded,  amid  complicated 
troubles  which  perplex  his  experience  and  baffle  his  skill,  of 
a  Physician  who,  in  a  more  inveterate  trouble,  can  heal  "all 
diseases/' 

Is  it  the  Merchant  ?  He  is  reminded  by  the  very  vicissitudes 
of  trade — the  ebbino-s  and  flowings  in  the  tide  of  prosperity — 
of  the  need  of  securing  an  interest  in  a  better  possession,  and 
more  enduring  riches  than  earth  can  give. 

Is  it  the  Soldier  ?  He  hears  mightier  bugle-notes  sounding 
to  arms,  "  It  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep,  for  now  is 
your  salvation  nearer  than  when  you  believed!"  He  is  re- 
minded of  a  more  gigantic  battle-plain  than  the  world's  con- 
flicting hosts  ever  occupied — and  the  need  there  is  of  taking 
to  himself  "the  whole  armour  of  God," — "fighting  the  good 
fight  of  faith,  and  laying  hold  of  eternal  life/' 

It  is  striking  to  note  that  the  first  Gentile  convert  welcomed 
to  the  new  spiritual  kingdom — the  first  Gentile  whose  prayer 
was  heard  and  whose  slave  was  healed — was  a  EUROPEAN 
OFFICER  ; — the  first  of  a  noble  army  who  have,  in  after- ages, 
joined  the  ranks  of  the  faithful. 

It  is  interesting,  moreover,  to  know  that  he  was  not  the 
only  officer  in  the  pay  of  Caesar,  who,  at  this  era  of  the  world, 
and  in  Palestine,  was  brought  to  fear  God.  We  have  another 
of  similar  rank — the  centurion  spoken  of  at  the  awful  termi- 
nating scene  of  Gospel  story,  who,  gazing  up  on  the  meek 
countenance  of  the  Crucified,  exclaimed,  "  Truly  this  is  the 
Son  of  God!" 

We  read  in  a  subsequent  period  of  "  Cornelius,  a  centurion 


THE  SOLDIER  AMD  HIS  SLAVE.  87 

of  the  band  called  tlie  Italian  band,"  quartered  with  his  men 
at  the  seat  of  government  at  Cacsarea,  that  he  was  "  a  devout 
man,  and  one  that  feared  God  with  all  his  house,  which  gave 
much  alms  to  tlie  people,  and  prayed  to  God  alway." 

We  know  how  the  apostle  Paul,  in  his  final  imprisonment 
in  Rome,  melted  the  iron  hearts  of  Nero's  Imperial  Guard. 
The  very  soldiers  between  whom  the  chained  prisoner  slept 
were  touched  by  his  sublime  patience,  his  fervid  prayers, 
his  unflinching  courage,  his  glorious  hopes. 

Thanks  be  to  God,  the  army  has  never  been  without  its 
number  of  "the  good  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ,"  from  the 
time  of  this  Roman  centurion  on  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  down  to 
the  hour  when  Hedley  Vicars  was  consigned  to  his  Crimean, 
and  Henry  Lawrence  to  his  Indian,  grave.  Brave  hearts, 
unflinching  in  the  hour  of  duty  and  death,  have  loved  to  cast 
their  swords  and  shields  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  and  to  glory, 
far  above  earthly  triumphs,  in  that  of  the  Roman,  "  This  is 
the  victory  which  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 

We  have  thought  of  that  Roman  officer  in  connexion  with 
his  Faith  and  Kindness  and  Humility  on  earth.  We  may 
think  of  him  at  this  moment — the  battle  of  life  long  ago 
ended — the  sword  long  ago  slumbering  in  its  scabbard — the 
watchfires  of  the  nightly  bivouac  quenched  for  ever — the 
trumpet  of  battle  hung  mute  in  the  heavenly  halls — seated  a 
fellow-guest  with  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob,  and  the 
noble  army  of  prophets  and  patriarchs,  apostles  and  martyrs, 
in  the  kingdom  of  glory — clothed  in  white  robes,  with  the 
palms  of  a  better  and  nobler  VICTOEY  in  their  hands ! 

We  may  learn,  as  a  SECOND  lesson,  that  Great  Faith  is 
fostered  in  the  midst  of  difficulties. 


88  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

It  would  only  be  to  rehearse  what  we  have  already  said,  to 
shew  that  this  pre-eminent  Faith  of  the  Centurion  was  so 
reared  and  nurtured. 

The  fact  of  ;  eing  a  Roman  by  birth — a  Pagan  in  religion 
— a  Soldier  by  profession — formed  a  threefold  impediment 
in  the  path  of  his  spiritual  life.  But  he  manfully  counted 
the  cost,  and,  not  only  was  victory  obtained,  but  when  he 
laid  the  spoils  at  his  Lord's  feet,  that  Saviour  declared  that 
Israel  had  need  to  blush  for  their  faith,  when  placed  side  by 
side  with  that  of  the  Gentile  stranger. 

It  is  of  the  very  nature  of  Faith  to  grow  in  the  midst  of 
trials  and  obstacles.  The  greatest  spiritual  heroes  of  the 
past — those  whose  faith  culminated  highest — are  they  who 
"subdued  kingdoms,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched 
the  violence  of  fire/'  *  Plunge  them  into  the  deep,  like  the 
fabled  hydra  they  seem  to  rise  with  renovated  energy. 

Noah's  faith,  how  wondrous!  battling  against  the  taunts 
and  ridicule  of  a  scoffing  world,  and  standing  alone  to  buffet 
the  storm  for  120  years. 

Abraham's  faith  was  strongest  in  his  most  trying  hour, 
when  the  son  of  his  prayers — the  child  of  promise — was 
doomed  to  perish  by  his  own  hand. 

The  faith  of  the  eleven  Disciples  was  never  more  remark- 
able than  when — returning  orphaned  and  bereaved  from  the 
Mount  of  Ascension — all  they  most  loved  vanished  from  their 
sight — left  to  battle  an  alien  world  alone !  Yet,  we  read,  "they 
returned  to  Jerusalem  with  great  joy!" 

*See  a  brief,  but  (likt  all  that  emanated  from  that  gifted  pen)  a  suggestive 
sermon  on   this  subject  by  Rev.  Frederick  Robertson  of  Brighton.     Second 


THE  SOLDIER  AND  HIS  SLAVE.  89 

Paul's  faith  never  was  stronger  or  more  glorious  than 
when  the  aged  man  was  fettered  in  his  dungeon,  with 
almost  certain  death  impending.  "Nevertheless,  I  am  not 
ashamed,  for  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  per- 
suaded that  He  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed 
unto  Him." 

And  every  martyr  at  the  stake,  and  every  missionary  in 
his  gigantic  task,  has  to  bear  the  same  testimony,  that  it 
was  when  the  tempest  was  highest,  and  the  battle  loudest, 
they  were  " strong  in  faith,  giving  glory  to  God."  The  Oak  is 
rooted  firmest  and  fastest,  that  has  been  nurtured,  not  amid 
quiet  climes  and  in  the  sheltering  valley,  but  high  on  the 
mountain-side  where  it  has  had  to  wrestle  with  the  storm. 
That  is  not  vigorous  training  for  the  rower,  when  resting  on 
his  oar,  his  boat  is  borne  down  the  descending  stream.  But 
his  is  the  hardened  sinew  and  brawny  arm  whose  bark  has 
to  foce  the  fiercest  current,  and  struggle  with  contending  wind 
and  tide. 

The  great  man  and  master-mind  was  once  the  boy  at 
school,  who  bravely  encountered  difficulty  and  disadvantage; 
who  wept  hot  tears  over  the  baffling  task,  and  dried  them  not 
till  he  conquered  impediments,  gaining  mental  and  moral 
courage  every  step  in  his  ascending  way.  So  it  is  in  the 
higher  spiritual  struggle.  Bunyan's  Christian,  who  scrambled 
and  ran  up  the  "Hill  Difficulty,"  was  found  asleep  on  the 
"  Enchanted  ground." 

Be  not  downcast,  then,  if  difficulties  and  trials  surround 
you  in  your  heavenly  life.  They  may  be  purposely  place.  1 
there  by  God,  to  train  and  discipline  you  for  higher  deve- 
lopments of  faith.  If  He  calls  you  to  "toiling  in  row- 


90  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

ing,"  it  may  be  to  make  you  the  hardier  seaman — to  lead 
you  to  lift  up  the  hands  which  hang  down  and  the  feeble 
knees,  and,  above  all,  to  drive  you  to  a  holier  trust  in  Him 
who  has  the  vessel  and  its  destinies  in  His  hand,  and  who, 
amid  gathering  clouds  and  darkened  horizon,  and  crested 
billows,  is  ever  uttering  the  mild  rebuke  to  our  misgivings — • 
"  Said  I  not  unto  thee,  if  thou  wouldst  believe,  thou  shouldst 
see  the  glory  of  God?" 


VII. 


Pilgrim !  burden' d  with  thy  sin, 

Come  the  way  to  Zion's  j.  ate ; 
There,  till  mercy  shut  thee  in, 

Knock,  and  weep,  and  watch,  and  wait. 

Knock — He  knows  the  sinner's  cry; 

Weep — He  loves  the  mourner's  tears; 
Watch — for  saving  grace  is  nigh ; 

Wait — till  heavenly  light  appears. 

Hark !  it  is  the  Bridegroom's  voice — 

Welcome,  pilgrim!  to  thy  rest; 
Now  within  the  gate  rejoice, 

Safe,  and  seal'd,  and  bought,  and  blest. 

"And  one  of  the  Pharisees  desired  Him  that  he  would  eat  with  him.  And 
He  went  into  the  Pharisee's  house,  and  sat  down  to  meat.  And,  behold,  a 
woman  in  the  city,  which  was  a  sinner,  when  she  knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat 
in  the  Pharisee's  house,  brought  an  alabaster-box  of  ointment,  and  stood  at  H  s 
feet  behind  Him  weeping,  and  began  to  wash  His  feet  with  tears,  and  did  wipe 
them  with  the  aairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his  feet,  and  anointed  them  with 
the  ointment."  -LutK  vii.  36-50. 


THREE  PORTRAITS. 

IN  our  last  scene  of  busy  life  on  the  Shores  of  Gennesaret,  we 
visited  in  thought  the  house  of  a  Gentile  officer  in  Capernaum, 
and  were  there  taught  the  hallowed  relation  which  ought  ever 
to  subsist  between  Master  and  Servant,  rich  and  poor. 

We  have  now  a  change  of  incident  within  the  walls  of  the 
same  city ;  where  Hebrew  synagogues  and  Hebrew  dwellings 
mingled  with  the  villas  and  mansions  of  Roman  courtiers, 
and  the  palaces  of  Herodian  princes. 

In  one  of  these  Jewish  houses  the  scene  of  our  present 
narrative  is  laid.  It  is  a  Parable  in  real  life.  New  phases 
of  humanity  here  meet  us,  with  which  Jesus  dealt ;  and  in 
dealing  with  which,  He  has  left  behind  important  lessons  for 
our  guidance  and  instruction. 

Of  the  many  graphic  Scenes,  indeed,  in  Sacred  story,  we 
know  not  one  more  striking  than  that  which  is  at  present  to 
engage  our  attention.  It  is  a  Picture  amid  Gospel  Pictures. 
One  ceases  to  wonder  that  the  great  Painters  of  the  middle 
ages  clung  to  it  as  a  favourite  subject  for  delineation.  We 
have  in  the  group  itself — its  lights  and  shadows — the  indi- 
viduality of  its  unique  and  contrasted  characters — all  that 
contributes  to  make  a  striking  and  powerful  composition. 
Proceeding  rapidly,  as  we  are  doing,  through  this  portion  of 
the  gospel  Picture-gallery,  we  dare  not  pass  it  by  in  silence. 
Other  minor  figures  crowd  the  background,  but  there  are 
Three  which  stand  out  from  the  inspired  canvass  in  siguifi- 


94  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAftE'i'. 

cant  prominence  : — three  impersonations  of  vastly  diverse 
character. 

In  the  foreground  of  all,  and  arresting  first  our  attention, 
is  the  impersonation  of  lowly  Penitence  and  Humility ;  close 
by,  in  bold  contrast  and  antagonism,  is  the  type  of  haughty 
supercilious  Pride  and  Eeligious  Formalism ;  and,  thirdly,  to 
complete  the  triad,  and  in  still  greater  contrast,  there  is  the 
Godlike  Impersonation  and  essence  of  ineffable  Tenderness, 
Compassion,  Love. 

The  Weeping  sinner,  the  Self-righteous  Pharisee,  the 
Great  and  Gracious  Redeemer. 

Let  us  for  a  little,  with  God's  blessing,  dwell  on  each  of 
the  three  in  their  order. 

(I.)  TiliQ  first  figure  which  meets  our  eye  in  the  picture  is 

that  of  THE  LOWLY  PENITENT. 

Her  history  is  a  brief  one — soon  told  :  "  A  woman  in  the 
city,  which  was  a  sinner."  "  THE  sinner  "  was  her  oppro- 
brious epithet !  The  guilt  of  a  life  of  reprobacy  and  shame 
was  branded  on  her  brow.  She  was  probably  a  Gentile — one 
of  those  unhappy  outcasts  from  virtue  and  peace  that  had 
been  imported  to  the  Jewish  lake  by  the  loathsome  corrup- 
tion of  Roman  manners.  The  lawless  vices  of  the  capital 
being  (as  we  know  from  contemporary  history)  too  terribly 
let  loose  on  her  subject  provinces. 

All  at  once,  however,  her  life  has  become  changed.  How 
she  may  have  been  prepared  to  undergo  so  vast  a  revolution 
in  her  history,  we  cannot  tell.  For  years,  it  may  be,  her 
soul  may  have  been  struggling  in  vain  to  get  free.  Her 
heart  may  have  been  torn  and  tortured  with  the  memories 
of  a  blighted  past,  and  a  miserable  and  abandoned  present ; 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  95 

and  yet  she  might  know  no  faithful  ear,  perhaps,  to  which  she 
might  reveal  the  reality  of  her  wretchedness.  The  sunny  recol- 
lections of  joyous  and  innocent  childhood,  and  a  happy  home, 
may  have  mingled  sadly  with  the  thought  of  the  agonised  and 
broken  hear' s  there  left,  from  which  she  had  torn  herself  for 
ever.  A  future  of  terrible  and  untold  desolation  rose  before 
her.  No  Gadarene  demoniac,  more  truly  than  she,  went  about 
"  seeking  rest  and  finding  none/7 

But  Rest  she  has  found.  Her  base  betrayers  have  crushed 
that  bleeding  heart  under  their  feet — they  mock  her  tears 
and  scorn  her  self-reproaches.  But  One  voice  she  has  heard 
y/hich  has  spoken  peace  to  her  troubled  soul ! 

Where  she  first  saw  Jesus,  we  cannot  tell.  Where  she 
first  listened  to  those  gracious  balm-words  which  stanched 
her  bleeding  wounds,  we  know  not.  Could  she  have  been 
in  the  crowd  that  day  by  the  Lake- side,  when  the  Lord  of 
nature  and  grace  spake  so  tenderly  from  the  fisher's  bark? 
Could  she  have  lingered,  on  that  more  recent  occasion,  in  the 
skirts  of  the  multitude  as,  in  the  plain  of  Hattin,  or  from  the 
Mount  of  Beatitudes,  wondrous  words  of  power,  and  wrath, 
and  mercy,  fell  on  her  ears  ?  Might  she  not  have  heard  the 
stern  utterance  there  pronounced  in  connexion  with  such  sins 
as  hers,  "  The  whole  body  shall  be  cast  into  hell  ?  "  Might 
not  she  also  have  listened  there  to  the  blessing  in  reserve 
for  the  "  poor  in  spirit/'  the  "  persecuted,"  the  "  mourner  ? " 
Might  she  not  have  heard  that  Great  Eestorer  who  had  healed 
lepers  and  sick,  rich  and  poor,  ncble  and  despised,  say  with- 
out reserve  or  condition — "Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  unto 
you,  seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall  be  opened  ? " 
Or,  is  it  not  more  probable  still,  that  she  may  have  listened 


96  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

in  Capernaum  to  that  briefest  but  loveliest  of  all  the  Saviour's 
utterances  spoken  shortly  before,*  and  which  has  for  eighteen 
hundred  years  calmed  the  tempests  in  many  storm-swept 
bosoms,  "  Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy 
Jaden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest  ?  Take  My  yoke  upon  you, 
and  learn  of  Me :  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  of  heart :  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls  ?  For  My  yoke  is  easy,  and 
My  burden  is  light?"  "Are  not  these  words,  these  golden 
words/'  she  might  say,  "just  for  ME  ?  They  are  all  I  re- 
quire— all  I  have  been  seeking  for !  I  am  a  '  WEARY  one  ;' 
none  but  God  in  Heaven  knows  how  weary !  This  heart 
of  mine  for  years  has  been  torn  and  broken.  The  burden  of 
crimson  sin  has  been  weighing  me  down.  Did  I  not  hear 
Him  say,  '  Come  to  Me,  I  will  give  you  rest  ?  Ye  shall  find 
rest  to  your  souls  ?'" 

Might  there  not  thus  have  been  one  echo  at  least  to 
these  soul-soothing  words  in  that  crowd  ?  One  ear  listening 
which  drank  them  in  ?  One  bosom  sighing  for  that  to  which 
it  had  been  ever  before  a  stranger — a  yoke  which  was  easy, 
and  a  burden  which  wras  light  ? 

But  whatever  were  the  occasion — wherever  the  scene,  and 
the  place,  and  the  manner  of  her  awaking  from  her  sleep  of 
death  —  she  had  been  arrested,  convicted,  humbled,  com- 
forted ;  her  conscience  had  been  struck,  her  life  of  profli- 
gacy was  loathed  and  abandoned  for  ever.  Now,  all  her 
thoughts  are  about  coming  into  personal  converse  with  that 
Great  Being  who  had  brought  her  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit, 
and  out  of  the  miry  clay,  and  set  her  feet  upon  a  Rock,  and 
established  her  goings ! 

*  Stier,  in  loco. 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  97 

Who  can  picture  all  the  reality  of  that  season  of  deep 
conviction: — the  tears  she  wept  in  secret  over  her  life  of 
infamy? — and  if  she  now  cherishes  the  humble  hope  that 
that  terrible  past  is  wondrously  forgiven,  how  full  is  she 
still  of  trembling  apprehensions !  The  scene  in  the  text  dis- 
closes to  us  the  turning-point  in  her  history.  It  is  the 
struggle  between  life  and  death  In  the  anguish  of  her 
newly-awakened  and  deeply-stricken  heart,  she  has  long  been 
making  the  patriarch's  prayer  her  own — "  Oh  !  that  I  knew 
where  I  might  find  HIM,  that  I  might  come  even  to  His 
seat ! " 

Her  cherished  wish  is  now  to  be  gratified.  Such  an 
opportunity  for  seeing  the  Saviour  does  now  occur.  She 
had  heard  that  He  was  guest  that  afternoon  in  a  rich  Phari- 
see's house.  The  doors  of  the  dining-hall  (according  to  East- 
tern  custom)  were  open.  Could  she  not  creep  unbidden 
behind  where  He  was,  and  weep  at  His  feet  the  tale  of  her 
sorrows?  Yet  manifold,  and  diverse  too,  are  the  straggles 
before  she  dare  venture  thither.  Two  impediments,  especially, 
must  have  powerfully  deterred  her. 

There  was,  first,  that  which  many  a  penitent  transgressor 
still  feels — the  fear  of  others.  The  dread  of  cruel  censure, 
contempt,  and  scorn.  She  seems  to  have  had  the  curse  of 
an  unenviable  notoriety  resting  upon  her.  May  she  not  be 
spurned  away  ?  May  not  that  drooping  heart,  opening  to  the 
gladsome  sunlight,  be  trodden  under  foot  by  merciless  man  ? 

Then  add  to  this  the  torturing  thought — how  can  she  face 
the  infinitely  PURE  ONE  ?  She  seems  to  say,  "  Can  I,  dare  I, 
venture  into  the  presence  of  Incarnate  holiness?  Can  He 
endure  my  defiling  touch  ?  Will  He  deign  to  receive  me ; 

G 


98  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

to  cast  on  me  one  lock  of  pity — to  utter  one  word  of  com- 
passion? May  I  not  only  aggravate  the  tortures  of  tins 
heart  by  listening  to  merited  upbraidings,  by  hearing  that 
'Rest'  there  is  for  the  'weary/  for  every  weary  head,  but 
mine,  and  such  as  mine!" 

But  what  will  a  soul  in  earnest  not  do  ?  What  barriers 
can  restrain  it  ?  Frown  who  may,  she  resolves  to  repair  to 
that  "  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness ; "  and  to 
tell  her  story  by  those  tears  which  had  been  "  her  meat,  day 
and  night/'  since  she  first  listened  to  her  Saviour's  words. 

She  enters  the  house.  Silently  she  steals  behind  the  couch 
where  the  Lord  reclined.  If  the  other  guests  have  been 
observing  her — if  the  whisper  and  comment  of  indignation 
is  passing  round  from  lip  to  lip — it  matters  not  to  her.  She 
hears  it  not,  and  cares  not  though  she  hears.  JESUS  is 
THERE  !  She  thinks  of  no  one  in  the  assembly  but  the  Refuge 
of  the  weary,  the  Help  of  the  helpless,  the  Friend  of  the 
friendless.  Her  eye  rests  on  Him  alone.  She  has  found 
"Him  whom  her  soul  loveth."  "He  is  all  her  salvation, 
and  all  her  desire/' 

See  her  now,  in  her  lowly  lurking-place.  Not  a  word  is 
spoken.  Her  burning  tear-drops  (what  Augustine  calls  "  the 
blood  of  her  heart")*  are  left  to  speak  for  her.  They  fall 
on  her  Saviour's  unsandalled  feet.  On  these  feet  she  im- 
prints her  kisses,  and  dries  them  with  the  dishevelled  hair  of 
her  head.  An  act,  it  is  worthy  of  observation,  which  was 
performed  only  by  the  meanest  female  slaves  in  Rome  to 
their  masters.  In  this  poor  sinner's  case,  therefore,  it  was 
significant.  Branded  with  contumely  by  man,  she  fled  to 
*  Quoted  by  Trench. 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  99 

the  God-M.m,  That  trembling  Penitent  casting  herself  at  her 
heavenly  Master's  feet,  seems  rejoicingly  to  say,  "  0  Lord, 
truly  I  am  Thy  SLAVE,  I  am  Thy  SLAVE  ;  Thou  hast  loosed 
my  bonds." 

And  as  if  this  were  not  all,  a  Box  of  fragrant  perfume, 
which  she  had  procured,  probably  to  lavish  on  her  own 
person  in  the  days  of  her  shame,  she  now  breaks,  and  pours 
on  the  feet  she  had  moistened  with  weeping.  As  we  behold 
the  loosened  tresses  (what  Paul  speaks  of  as  "  the  glory  of 
woman"),  now  spurning  all  adornment,  and  the  fragments  of 
the  alabaster-box  scattered  around,  this  Niobe  of  Holy  Writ 
seems  to  have  anticipated  the  same  apostle's  injunction  to 
other  similar  penitents,  and  to  be  acting  upon  it — "  As  ye 
have  yielded  your  members  servants  to  un cleanness  and  to 
iniquity  unto  iniquity;  even  so  now  yield  your  members 
servants  to  righteousness  unto  holiness."* 

Oh,  beautiful  type  !  Marvellous  picture  of  broken-hearted 
sorrow !  A  poor  outcast  of  wretchedness  lying  low  at  the 
cross ;  her  footpath  thither  saturated  with  dewy  tears.  A 
miserable  wreck  of  humanity  who  had  broken  loose  from 
her  moorings,  drifting  helpless,  hopeless,  ruined,  lost,  to  the 
bleak  winds  and  howling  sea  of  eternity,  now  moored  to 
the  Great  Living  Rock.  There  was  joy  in  Heaven  that  day, 
among  the  angels  of  God,  over  that  one  sinner  that  repented! 

Pass  we  on  now  to  the  second  Portrait  in  this  Gospel- 
picture. 

Can  there  be  conceived  a  greater  contrast  and  transition  ? 
From  one  low  in  the  dust  of  self-abasement,  confessing  her- 

*  Horn.  vi.  19. 


100  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

self  the  chief  of  sinners,  to  one  who  is  the  type  and  por- 
traiture of  haughty  self-righteous  formalism  !  The  host  at 
this  entertainment  was  a  PHAKISEE. 

Little  or  nothing  is  said  of  him  in  the  narrative,  to  throw 
any  distinctive  light  on  his  history.  We  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  he  was,  by  any  means,  a  disreputable  specimen 
of  his  class.  Had  he  been  so,  our  blessed  Lord  would 
have  been  more  unqualified  in  His  condemnation.  He 
was  no  Sceptic.  Neither  profanity  nor  immorality  probably 
could  be  laid  to  his  charge.  Multitudes  of  such  were 
round  about  that  Lake;  profligate  Gentiles,  scoffing  Romans, 
rationalistic  Sadducees.  But  he  was  very  different.  He 
was,  for  aught  we  know,  a  good  Moral  man.  He  was  a 
Synagogue  attender.  The  very  fact  of  having  Jesus  as  his 
guest  intimated  a  respect  for  religious  Teaching.  He  was 
punctilious  in  Synagogue  services  and  Ceremonial  rites.  The 
only  incidental  glimpse,  indeed,  the  narrative  gives  of  his 
character,  indicates  this  much — he  marvelled  that  if  Christ 
were  truly  a  prophet,  gifted  with  the  discernment  of  spirits, 
He  did  not  shrink  from  the  unclean  touch  of  the  sinner  at 
His  feet.  He  spake  within  himself,  "  This  man,  if  he  were 
a  prophet,  would  have  known  who,  and  what  manner  of 
woman  this  is,  that  toucheth  him."  He  speaks  not  of  the 
Magdalene  as  the  woman  who  "  weepeth/'  or  "  kisseth,"  or 
"anointeth,"  or  "loveth/'butftfl  the  woman  that  "toucheth."* 

He  was  then,  externally  to  a  Jew,  all  that  could  be  wished. 
He  ''  thanked  God  that  he  was  not  as  others."  He  tithed  all  he 
possessed  \ritli  scrupulous  nicety.  He  could  boast,  it  maybe, 
ol  the  brojclest  phylactery  in  Capernaum.  He  was  a  pupil  of 

*  See  Alford  and  Stier,  in  loco. 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  101 

Hillels,  or,  perhaps,  made  it  matter  of  thankfulness  that  it 
was  not  Hillel,  but  Shammai,  at  whose  feet  he  had  sat,  and 
whose  spirit  he  had  imbibed.  He  made  it  his  boast  that  he 
never  had  any  dealings  with  the  Samaritans  ;  that  far  off  as 
Mount  Zion  was,  he  had  ever  shunned,  as  defiled,  their  temple 
on  Gerizim ;  and  in  going  up  to  the  annual  feasts,  rather 
than  run  the  risk  of  contamination,  he  would  take  the 
circuit  of  the  Jordan  route  to  avoid  it.  No,  no  ;  other  Jews 
might  shew  a  latitudinarian  spirit  and  have  dealings  with 
Samaritans  ;  never  would  he  !  Others  might  believe  in  the 
sincerity  of  a  Publican  smiting  on  his  breast  and  confessing 
himself  a  sinner,  and  God  hearing  that  prayer ;  never  could 
he  3  And  as  for  condescending  so  much  as  to  touch  this  Gentile 
Sinner,  this  wretched  offscouring  of  Roman  profligacy,  it 
would  defile  and  contaminate  him — it  would  be  a  blot  on  his 
pedigree  as  the  child  of  Abraham.  He  had  conscientious  ob- 
jections to  take  the  Jewish  children's  bread  and  cast  it  to 
Gentile  dogs ! 

Jesus  saw  what  was  passing  in  the  narrow,  shrivelled  soul 
of  this  turbaned  Religionist;  indeed,  but  for  a  brief  and 
sententious  parable,  which  the  merciful  Philanthropist  inter- 
posed, the  Pharisee-host  might  have  bid  away  the  poor 
suppliant  from  his  home  and  table.  "  0  Simon !  "  says  a 
learned  commentator,  "wert  thou  not  a  poor  sinner,  Jesus 
would  not  have  come  to  thy  table ;  had  not  this  woman  been 
a  penitent  sinner,  she  would  not  have  sought  Him  in  thy 
house.  Oh,  that  thou  knewest  what  a  Saviour  He  is — how 
He  knows  thee  and  her :  her  repentance — thy  pride  !  " 

Is  not  this  Jewish  Pharisee  a  "Representative  man" — 3 
type  still  of  his  Class  ?  In  him  we  have  one  of  those  cold. 


102  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

heartless  spirits  who  have  an  outward  respect  for  conventional 
Religious  Forms,  but  have  no  corresponding  realisation  of  the 
exceeding  breadth  of  God's  law,  and  the  exceeding  siufulness 
of  their  own  hearts.  They  see  sin  in  others,  but  they  are  all 
as  they  should  be ;  they  can  pull  out  the  mote  in  their 
brother's  eye,  but  they  have  no  thought  of  a  beam  in  their 
own.  Champions  for  sect  and  party — orthodox,  as  they 
firmly  believe,  in  their  own  creed — all  the  world  are  wrong, 
or  may  be  wrong,  but  they  are  sure  they  are  right.  Their 
Church  is  the  pure  one.  They  can  trace  their  pedigree  to 
apostles.  Others  have  altered  their  rubrics;  they  never  have. 
Others  seem  to  live  on  enthusiasm  ;  they  can  take  Eeligion 
easy,  and  get  into  Heaven  notwithstanding.  There  are  poor 
at  their  doors,  why  not  let  the  Law  or  Police  look  after  them? 
If  a  miserable  transgressor  comes  in  their  path,  they  hold  it 
would  not  be  respectable  to  have  dealings  with  him ;  if  a 
brother,  overtaken  in  a  fault,  comes  with  the  hot  tears  of  grief 
pleading  for  forgiveness,  they  think  it  best  to  have  nothing  to 
say  to  him.  It  may  do  for  a  good  Samaritan  to  pick  up  that 
wounded  man  ;  but,  being  Jews,  they  would  contract  defile- 
ment by  touching  him.  They  are  sorry  for  him  ;  but,  shaking 
their  heads  and  sighing,  they  leave  him  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  others,  and  "  pass  by  on  the  other  side  ! " 

Let  us  beware  of  this  cold,  selfish,  proud  spirit.  If  there  be 
anything  more  obnoxious  to  God,  more  withering  to  all  that 
is  noble  in  the  human  soul,  it  is  this — the  gilding  of  the  outside 
of  the  cup  and  platter — the  whitewash  of  the  moral  sepulchre 
— the  Eeligion  which  begins  and  centres  and  terminates  in  self, 
and  whose  culminating  glory  is  the  complacent  thought,  "  I 
am  better  than  others.  Stand  back.  I  am  holier  than  thou  \ " 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  103 

The  Omniscient  Saviour  sent  the  arrow  of  conviction  to  this 
Pharisee's  conscience.  Like  another  Nathan,  self-judged  and 
self-condemned,  he  brought  home  the  verdict,  "  thou  art  the 
man."  He  would  do  the  same  to  every  one  of  us,  who  in  the 
shadings  of  this  picture  may  see  any  dim  reflection  of  himself. 
He  who  knew  all  the  deep  labyrinths  of  the  human  heart 
thus  gives  in  another  place  His  estimate  of  self-righteous, 
Pharisaic  formalism,  "  Except  your  righteousness  exceed  the 
righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  ye  shall  in  no 
case  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven/' 

But  let  us  pass  on  to  the  third  and  last  principal  figure  in 
our  Picture.  In  the  centre  of  the  group  (between  the  two  we 
have  described),  is  the  Living  and  All-glorious  type  of  human 
Tenderness  and  Love — an  exalted  SAVIOUR  GOD. 

\Ve  wait  anxiously  to  mark  how  He  receives  the  trembling 
Transgressor.  Are  her  fears  well  founded  ?  Are  her  sobs  to 
die  away  in  empty  echoes  within  these  walls?  Ah!  if  it  had 
been  man — selfish,  haughty,  unfeeling  man — away,  spurned 
and  broken-hearted,  she  would  have  been  sent ;  but  "  My 
ways  are  not  as  your  ways,  nor  Lly  thoughts  as  your  thoughts, 
saith  the  Lord!" 

At  first  He  speaks  not — He  leaves  her  in  silence  to  exhaust 
her  tribute  of  sorrow  and  love.  The  sluices  of  her  heart 
being  only  opened,  He  lets  the  flood  of  tears  rush  on  un- 
checked. But  He  does  break  silence — He  can  bear  and 
brook  no  longer  the  cruel  frowns  and  taunting  looks  of  t  hose 
around.  With  what  feelings  must  the  broken-hearted  one 
have  listened  to  the  tones  of  ever-living  love,  as  thus  He  (yes, 
HE  the  Lord  of  glory]  spake  in  behalf  of  the  vilest  of  sinners. 


104  MEMOK1ES  OF  GENNEbAEET. 

"  Simon,"  said  he,  addressing  the  Pharisee,  "  I  have  somewhat 
to  say  unto  thee.  There  was  a  certain  creditor  which  had 
two  debtors ;  the  one  owed  five  hundred  pence,  and  the  other 
fifty.  And  when  they  had  nothing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave 
them  both.  Tell  me  therefore,  which  of  them  will  love  him 
most  ?  Simon  answered,  I  suppose  that  he  to  whom  he  for- 
gave most.  And  He  said  unto  him,  Thou  hast  rightly 
judged."  He  turns  then  round  in  meek  majesty  to  the  Peni- 
tent, and  applies  the  simple  but  expressive  rebuke.  "  Seest 
thou,"  he  continued  to  Simon,  "  this  woman  ?  I  entered, 
a  weary  Stranger,  into  thy  house.  In  accordance  with  cus- 
tomary wont — the  rites  of  ancient  hospitality — thou  or  thy 
servants  should  have  afforded  Me  water  for  My  feet :  this 
was  denied  Me:  but  thy  neglect  or  inconsideration  was  more 
than  supplied  by  her.  From  the  welling  fountains  of  her 
grief  she  has  bathed  My  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiped  them 
with  the  hair  of  her  head.  Thou  gavest  Me  no  kiss — this 
wonted  courtesy  to  a  Jewish  Rabbi  thou  hast,  from  motives  of 
calculating  prudence,  withheld  from  Me  ;  but  she,  ever  since 
she  crept  behind  this  table,  has  not  ceased  to  kiss  My  feet. 
My  head  even  with  common  olive  oil  thou  didst  not  anoint ; 
but  this  woman  hath  anointed  not  My  head,  but  My  very 
feet,  and  that,  too,  with  costliest  spikenard.  Wherefore  I 
say  unto  thee,  Her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven ;  for 
she  loved  much :  but  to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same 
loveth  little." 

And  now  follows  the  gracious,  longed-for  word  to  the 
listening  Penitent.  Now  comes  her  own  assurance  of  com- 
fort and  joy — "  THY  SINS  ARE  FOEGIVEN."  .  .  "  Thy  faith 
hath,  saved  tnee;  go  in  peace."  Her  Lord  has  received  her, 


THREE  POKTKAITS.  105 

looked  upon  her,  defended  her,  assured  her,  forgiven  her, 
and  now  He  sends  her  away  with  the  coveted  benediction. 
She  came  weary  to  Him,  and  He  has  not  belied  His  own 
sure  word,  for  she  has  received  "BEST"  for  her  burdened 
soul. 

Most  lovely  picture,  we  again  say,  this  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  with  that  despised,  down-trodden,  forlorn  FEMALE 
at  His  feet !     We  have  here  a  living  type  and  embodiment  of 
what  Christianity  has  done  to  wipe  the  tears  from  degraded 
womanhood,  and  raise  her  from  the  dust  to  which  paganism 
had  doomed   her.     What   is  the  boasted   Chivalry  of   the 
middle  ages,  but  the  legitimate  effect  of  the  elevating  spirit 
of  Christianity?      Wherever   Christianity  is   not,    there   is 
woman  found  with  the  curse  of  bondage  and  degradation 
resting  upon  her — the  drudge  and  menial  slave,  instead  of 
the  helpmeet  and  companion  of  man.     The  first  words  that 
our  Lord  uttered  when  He  rose  from  the  grave  were  ad- 
dressed to  a  whole  world  in  tears — " WOMAN!  why  weepest 
thou?"  And  He  could  point  to  that  vacant  sepulchre  He  had 
just  left  as  the  certain  pledge,  amid  higher  blessings,  that 
ere  long  these  tears   would  be  dried.     0  Jesus!    Woman 
(personated  by  that  poor  Penitent  in  the  text)  may  well  come 
and  lie  adoring  at  Thy  feet.      Thy  religion  has   been  the 
breaker  of  her  chains  and  the  balm  of  her  sorrows :  we  cease 
now  to  wonder  that  she  was  last  at  Thy  cross  and  first  at 
Thy  tomb! 

Let  us  pass  on  to  one  or  two  practical  Lessons  which  this 
narrative  suggests.  We  may  take  three  which  have  reference 
to  Great  Sinners. 


1 06  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

I.  We  learn  that/or  Great  Sinners  there  is  a  Great  Saviour. 
Here  is  THE  Lesson  of  all  lessons.  We  have  been  studying 
this  Picture  figure  by  figure,  but  like  the  ancient  Painters  we 
must  be  jealous  of  detracting  from  what,  after  all,  is  the  Cen- 
tral glory  of  it.  All  the  other  parts  must  be  subordinated 
to  One — all  other  figures  must  only  be  brought  in  as  helps  to 
tell  the  story  of  His  exceeding  love. 

Yes !  JESUS  is  the  Chief  Speaker  here  ;  and,  "chief  of  sin- 
ners/' He  speaks  to  you  !  He  tells  you  in  words  and  deeds 
of  unutterable  tenderness,  that  you  never  need  despair  of  His 
mercy! — that  for  "scarlet  sins"  and  "crimson  sins"  there  is 
an  ever  opened  fountain.  "  This  man  receiveth  sinners,"  was 
the  ironical  taunt  of  proud  and  haughty  Pharisees.  "  This 
man  receiveth  sinners"  is  the  Saviour's  own  motto — the 
glorious  peculiarity  of  His  great  salvation !  Hear  it,  ye  who 
are  bowed  down  with  an  overwhelming  sense  of  some 
heinous  sins !  there  may  be  one  such  whose  eye  is  falling  on 
these  pages ;  some  troubled  miserable  being — shivering  on 
the  verge  of  despair — an  awful  past  frowning  upon  you — 
spectres  of  guilt  haunting  you  by  night,  and  the  scorpion 
sting  of  conscience  goading  you  by  day ; — hiding  your  fears 
from  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  you;  your  heart  alone 
knowing  its  own  bitterness — the  awful  unrest  of  unfor- 
given  and  unmortified  sin !  I  am  commissioned  this  day  to 
lead  you  to  this  Picture  in  the  great  gallery  of  Truth — to 
point  to  that  vicious  Profligate  with  the  blood  of  souls  on 
her  head,  and  to  tell  you  she  trembled  and  wept,  and  be- 
lieved and  rejoiced!  Hers  was  the  worst  supposable  case. 
No  sheep  in  all  the  Galilee  fold  more  outcast,  worthless;  self- 
condemned  than  she ;  and  yet — see  the  kind  Shepherd !  He 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  10? 

had  followed  after  her  (it  may  be  for  years  on  years),  track- 
ing her  guilty  steps  as  she  rushed  farther  and  farther  from 
the  fold,  but  He  ceased  not  "until  He  found  her;"  and  when 
He  had  found  her,  He  laid  her  on  His  shoulders  rejoicing, 
saying  "Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  have  found  the  sheep  which 
was  lost ! " 

The  Pharisees'  axiom  (and  still  the  creed  and  verdict  of 
many)  is — "  God  can  have  no  dealing  with  such  vile  sinners/' 
He  can — He  does!  Remember,  it  is  not  the  Sinner  He  hates, 
but  Sin.  He  loves  the  sinner.  He  gave  His  Son  to  die  for 
the  sinner,  to  shew  how  He  loves  him !  What  other  proof  of 
this  do  we  need  when  we  have  the  Cross  of  Calvary?  "  He 
is  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all  should  come 
to  Him  and  live/'  If  you  are  saying  now,  as  you  contemplate 
that  picture  of  anguished  Penitence  and  Redeeming  Love, 
"Would  it  were  the  same  with  me!"  I  answer  unhesitatingly, 
"  It  may  be  the  same ;  with  God's  grace  it  shall  be  the  same  \ 
Come !  ye  whose  sins  are  of  the  deepest  dye — the  memories  of 
the  past,  memories  of  guilt  and  loathing  and  self-reproach — 
your  hearts  restless  and  anguished  as  you  stoop  over  the  dark 
abyss ;  put  this  picture  before  your  mental  eye — keep  it  there 
— hang  it  upon  your  heart-walls — ponder  it  in  your  hours  of 
conviction  and  your  hours  of  despair — suspend  it  above  your 
death-pillows,  and  write  under  it  as  its  name  and  inscription 
— "  Where  sin  abounded  GRACE  did  much  more  abound!'" 

I.  Learn  that  toward  Great  Sinners  there  ought  to  be 
shewn  great  tenderness. 

It  is  often  not  so  with  man.  There  is  often  a  mean  plea- 
sure in  spurning  the  transgressor  from  our  presence — recall- 


108  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESABET. 

ing  the  memory  of  sin — loading  with  cutting  rebuke  and 
upbraidings — when  a  kind  word  and  kind  act  might  reclaim 
from  the  paths  of  vice  and  soothe  a  shattered  and  a  broken 
heart ! 

Yes,  I  fearlessly  say  it,  there  is  often  a  harsh  unwilling- 
ness to  make  allowance  for  circumstances — for  the  power  of 
temptation  and  the  seductions  of  a  guilty  world.  How  often 
is  this  the  case  with  the  wretched  outcasts  of  whom  the 
woman  in  the  text  is  the  type!  Society  frowns  on  them 
(that  we  dare  not  blame) ;  but  is  there  to  be  left  no  room 
for  repentance  and  for  tears?  If  another  such  weeping 
Magdalene,  as  in  the  text,  is  to  implore  a  kind  look,  after 
years  of  anguished  penitence,  are  these  tears  to  be  cruelly 
mocked,  and  is  she  to  turn  her  head  to  the  grave  as  the  only 
rest  and  resting-place  for  her  woe?  Is  a  brother  to  turn  an 
erring  sister  from  his  gates?  Can  a  parent  read  this  story  of 
redeeming  mercy,  and  let  the  iron  enter  deeper  into  the  heart 
of  his  penitent  and  exiled  child?  Yet  how  often  is  it  so, 
and  this  all  the  while  (oh!  the  cruel  and  base  injustice  of 
public  morality) — while  man — the  base  seducer — who  mur- 
dered the  peace  of  innocent  households,  and  brought  a 
father  and  mothers'  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave — 
while  he  is  permitted  to  strut  unbranded  on  the  world's 
highway !  The  world's  doors  are  open  to  him — the  lounges 
of  fashion  he  can  frequent — he  can  clasp  still  the  young 
hand  of  virtue,  and  whirl  with  it  in  the  giddy  dance; 
the  victims  of  his  sin  meanwhile  left  to  pine  in  broken- 
hearted misery — unwept  for — unsolaced !  One'?  heart  burns 
with  indignation  at  the  hollow  baseness  of  this  too  truthful 
picture  of  what  is  called  "fashionable  life."  I  ask  you  whether 


THEEE  PORTRAITS.  109 

should  that  deserted  woman,  shivering  in  the  ragged  tatters 
of  penury  in  her  wretched  garret,  or  her  destroyer,  moving 
amid  the  lights  and  halls  of  luxury — whether  is  that  poor, 
broken-down,  battered  flower,  with  its  soiled  and  withered 
leaves,  or  he  that  has  crushed  its  young  tendrils  under  foot, 
and  left  it  to  rot  and  consume  in  the  delirium  of  despair — 
which  of  these  two  is  most  hated  in  the  sight  of  God — which 
of  these  two  ought  to  be  most  branded  in  the  eye  of  man? 

You  may  remember  another  similar  Victim  of  guilt  and 
shame  hurried  into  the  presence  of  Christ.  Her  cruel-hearted 
accusers  were  all  loud  in  her  condemnation ;  till  Jesus,  by  a 
personal  appeal  to  their  consciences  silenced  their  clamour, 
and  pronounced  the  milder  verdict — "  Neither  do  I  condemn 
thee;  go  and  sin  no  more."  Let  us  come  to  this  Parable- 
picture,  and  learn  a  lesson  of  tenderness  to  the  erring.  Learn 
it  from  Him  who  is  our  great  Exemplar.  "  He  will  not  break 
the  bruised  reed — He  will  not  quench  the  smoking  flax." 
We  have  often  truly  reason  to  say  "  Let  me  not  fall  into  the 
hands  of  man."  But  "ye  have  seen  the  end  of  the  Lord, 
how  that  the  Lord  is  very  pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy."  To 
every  weeping,  broken-hearted  Penitent,  lying  low  at  His 
cross  and  nailing  his  or  her  sins  there,  He  says,  "  I  will  be 
merciful  to  your  unrighteousness;  your  sins  and  your  ini- 
quities will  I  remember  no  more ! tj 

III.  Learn  that  FROM  Great  Sinners  God  expects  great 
gratitude  and  love. 

This  Woman's  sins,  which  were  many,  were  "all  for- 
given," and,  as  a  consequence,  "she  loved  much." 

We  must  not,  from  aught  I  have  said,  be  tempted  to  infer 


1 10  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

that  Christ  in  any  degree  winks  at  sin.  The  stupendous 
journey  He  undertook  from  the  heights  of  glory  to  the 
depths  of  humiliation  refutes  at  once  the  thought!  If 
Sin,  great  or  small,  were  a  trivial  thing  in  the  eye  of  God, 
think  ye  that  He  would  have  exacted  a  penalty  of  such  un- 
told anguish  from  the  Son  of  His  love?  Equally  abhorrent 
must  be  the  thought  of  continuing  in  sin  because  such  grace 
abounds.  Would  not  this  be  to  represent  a  holy  God  as  the 
great  Patron  of  iniquity?  Would  it  not  be  to  make  the  entire 
Incarnation  work  one  gigantic  effort  to  relax  the  penalties 
of  the  law,  and  let  the  transgressor  violate  it  with  impunity? 
We  repel  the  thought,  as  Paul  repelled  it,  with  an  indignant 
"God  forbid!" 

Let  those  who  have  been  thus  graciously  forgiven,  and 
"  forgiven  much" — who  by  the  free  grace  and  tender  mercy  of 
God  have  had  such  a  full,  free,  everlasting  remission  tendered 
them — let  such  shew  by  holy  living  and  holy  acting — by 
contrition  and  humility,  by  kindness  and  gentleness  and  un- 
selfishness, by  love  to  God  and  love  to  man — the  depth  of 
their  gratitude  to  Him  who  has  dealt  with  them  as  the  ten- 
derest  earthly  father  never  dealt  with  his  dearest  and  fondest 
child.  This  lowly  Penitent  in  the  text,  as  she  crouches 
tremblingly  and  lovingly  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  with  the 
mingled  remembrance  of  great  guilt  and  great  forgiveness, 
lavishes  upon  Him  her  best!  She  may  have  had  nothing  else 
to  offer.  The  sole  treasure  of  a  wretched  home,  she  plucked 
from  her  bosom  and  poured  its  fragrant  contents  on  the  feet 
of  her  pilgrim  Redeemer! 

She  seems  to  speak  to  every  crimson  and  scarlet  Transgres- 


THREE  PORTRAITS.  Ill 

sor,  who,  heart-sick  with  sin — stricken  down  by  the  terrors 
of  the  law — the  verities  of  the  second  death — the  awful  other 
world — has  rushed  to  the  only  Ark  of  safety,  the  shelter- 
ing Covert  for  the  weary  and  heavy  laden!  She  seems  to 
say,  "  Give  Him — oh !  give  Him — not  the  crumbs  and  dregs, 
not  the  sweepings  and  remnants  of  '  a  worn  and  withered 
love/  but  let  your  tribute  offering  be,  to  the  full  measure  of 
your  ability,  commensurate  with  the  magnitude  of  that  for- 
giving mercy  which  has  borne  the  mighty  load  away  into  a 
land  of  oblivion  ! " 

Eeader!  Is  the  sweet  music  of  that  word  now  falling  on 
your  ear — "  Sinner !  thy  sins  are  forgiven  ?  "  Grace  has  called 
thee ! — Love  has  redeemed  thee ! — Blood  has  washed  thee ! — 
Peace  is  bequeathed  to  thee ! — Heaven  is  before  thee !  Be  it 
yours  to  reply,  "  '  Lord !  I  am  Thine ! '  My  love  to  Thee — that 
cold  callous  thing  which  we  call  love — is  but  as  a  drop  in  the 
ocean  of  Thy  tenderness.  But  here  I  am !  Take  me,  use  me 
for  Thy  glory !  This  body,  long  a  dark,  desecrated  shrine,  full 
of  loathsome  pollution,  sanctify  it  as  a  Temple  to  Thy  praise. 
This  soul,  that  has  been  long  grovelling  in  the  dust,  wallow- 
ing in  the  mire  of  its  earthliness  and  sin,  bring  back  to  it 
the  lost  image  and  lineaments  of  Thy  great  Self !  This  Life 
— this  existence  reclaimed  by  Thee  from  the  blank  chaos  of 
death  and  despair — oh!  let  it  be  one  never-ending  Thank- 
offering  of  gratitude  to  Him  who  hath  *  loved  me  with  an 
everlasting  love/  And  Death! — when  that  solemn  moment 
draws  nigh,  which  I  once  shuddered  to  name — 'MY  death!' 
— let  it  be  the  sweet  triumph-hour  of  a  spirit  at  peace  with 
its  Godl  As  I  confront  the  once  dreaded  water-floods,  let 


112  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

me  hear  the  old  word  which  on  earth  I  loved  so  well.  Let 
me  hear  it  come  floating  across  the  dark  billows,  glorious 
with  the  new  impress  and  meaning  of  Heaven;  yet  still 
spoken  by  Him  who  died,  that  to  me  and  for  me  He  might 
utter  it,  as  He  stands  beckoning  on  the  heavenly  Shore — 
'  COME  UNTO  ME,  THOU  WEAEY  ONE,  AND  I  WILL  GIVE  THEE 
BEST!'" 


VIII. 


Oft  as  thy  word,  0  God,  is  cast, 

Like  seed  into  the  ground, 
Let  the  rich  dews  of  heaven  descend, 

And  righteous  fruits  abound. 

Let  not  the  ever- watchful  foe 

This  holy  seed  remove, 
But  give  it  root  in  every  heart 

To  bring  forth  fruits  of  love. 

Let  not  the  world's  deceitful  care* 

The  living  Word  destroy, 
But  let  it  yield  a  hundredfold 

Of  peace  and  faith  and  joy. 

"Behold  a  sower  went  forth  to  sow."— MATT.  xiii.  ;  MARK  iv.  1  ;  LUKE  viu. 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED. 

WE  have  hitherto  been  engaged  mainly  in  witnessing  our 
Lord's  miracles  of  power,  or  in  listening  to  His  ir.  Frances  of 
mercy  and  compassion  on  the  shores  of  the  Galilean  Sea. 
We  have,  in  the  present  chapter,  a  remarkable  specimen  of  a 
favourite  method,  which  often  and  again  on  subsequent 
occasions  He  adopted,  in  unfolding  the  mysteries  of  His 
kingdom — viz.,  teaching  BY  PARABLE. 

The  Treasure-house  of  Creation  is  taken  to  interpret  the 
doctrines  of  Grace  ; — Pictures  hung  in  the  outer  world,  and 
on  which  the  eye  of  Jew  and  Gentile  had  gazed  a  thousand 
times,  unconscious  of  their  containing  any  spiritual  sugges- 
tions, are  transferred  by  Him  to  the  walls  of  the  Gospel 
Temple,  and  there  pointed  to  by  the  Lord  of  both  kingdoms 
as  illustrators  of  Divine  truths.  The  hills  raid  fields, 
the  corn  and  trees,  the  flowers  and  waters,  are  employed 
as  exponents  of  heavenly  verities.  The  ordinary  lessons 
of  His  kingdom,  indeed,  and  especially  warnings  to  trie 
obdurate  and  impenitent,  are  still  to  be  conveyed  in  the  old 
familiar  vehicle  of  plain  unvarnished  language.  He  arrays 
the  startling  judgment  truths  of  the  preceding  chapter,  in  St 
Matthew,  in  no  mystic  drapery.  He  attempts  no  proverb 
when  exposing  the  guilt  of  hypocrites  and  announcing  their 
doom.  But  when  He  would  unfold  the  "state  secrets"  of  His 
kingdom,  He  puts  "applies  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver/'  He 


116  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

adopts  a  cycle  of  parabolic  emblems  to  instruct  His  Church 
till  the  end  of  time. 

The  first  Four  were  spoken  from  a  fishing-boat  to  a  vast 
throng  assembled  by  the  sea-side.  The  remaining  three  were 
uttered  immediately  afterwards  to  the  disciples  in  a  private 
house  in  Capernaum.  Beautiful  is  the  unity,  and  most  natu- 
ral the  sequence,  of  these  seven  vivid  similitudes,  in  that 
parable-clatter; — beginning  with  the  incipient  act  of  the 
Kingdom,  the  "Sower  sowing  the  Seed/'  and  ending  with  the 
emptying  of  the  Draw-net — fetching  the  Eedeemed  multi- 
tudes, at  the  time  of  consummation,  home  to  the  heavenly 
shore. 

It  is  the  opening  one  of  the  series,  the  Parable  of  the 
Sower,  which  alone  we  shall  consider,  as  a  specimen  of  the 
others. 

"  Is  there  anything  on  the  spot  to  suggest  the  image  thus 
conveyed?"  "  So/'  says  a  recent  traveller,  "I  asked,  as  I  rode 
along  the  track  under  the  hill-side  by  which  the  Plain  of 
Gennesareth  is  approached.  So  I  asked  at  the  moment,  see- 
ing nothing  but  the  steep  sides  of  the  hill  alternately  of  rock 
and  grass.  And  when  I  thought  of  the  Parable  of  the  Sower, 
J  answered  that  here,  at  least,  was  nothing  on  which  the 
In  vine  teaching  could  fasten ;  it  must  have  been  the  distant 
corn-fields  of  Samaria  or  Esdraelon  on  which  Christ's  mind 
was  dwelling.  The  thought  had  hardly  occurred  to  me  when 
a  slight  recess  in  the  hill-side,  close  upon  the  plain,  disclosed 
at  once  in  detail,  and  with  a  conjunction  which  I  remember 
no  where  else  in  Palestine,  every  feature  of  the  Great  Parable. 
There  was  the  undulating  corn-field  descending  to  the  water's 
edge !  There  was  the  trodden  pathway  running  through  the 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  117 

midst  of  it,  with  no  fence  or  edge  to  prevent  the  seed  from 
falling  here  and  there  on  either  side  of  it,  or  upon  it ;  itself 
hard  with  the  constant  tramp  of  horse  and  mule  and  human 
feet.  There  was  the  good  rich  soil  which  distinguishes  the 
whole  of  that  plain,  and  its  neighbourhood,  from  the  bare 
hills  elsewhere  descending  into  the  lake,  and  which,  where 
there  is  no  interruption,  produces  one  vast  mass  of  corn. 
There  was  the  rocky  ground  of  the  hill-side  protruding  here 
and  there  through  the  corn-fields,  as  elsewhere  through  the 
grassy  slopes.  There  were  the  large  bushes  of  thorn — the 
'  Nabk' — that  kind  of  which  tradition  says  the  Crown  of 
Thorns  was  woven — springing  up,  like  the  fruit-trees  of  the 
more  inland  parts,  in  the  very  midst  of  the  waving  wheat/'  * 

As  we  have  good  reason  to  infer  that,  in  the  closing 
parable  of  the  series,  the  figure  of  a  draw-net  was  suggested 
by  the  sight  of  some  Gennesaret  fishermen  discharging  their 
cargo  at  the  moment  on  the  shore,  so  the  Parable  we  are  now 
to  consider  was  probably  suggested  by  what  the  eye  of  our 
blessed  Redeemer  beheld  as  He  thc:i  gazed  from  the  fishing- 
boat  along  the  fertile  plain. 

We  can  realise  the  spectacle, — (at  that  season  and  spot  so 
natural), — a  Sower  in  early  spring  scattering  his  handfuls  of 
grain  in  the  upturned  furrow.  Birds  from  sea  and  mountain 
are  screaming  around  his  head,  tracking  his  steps  and  pick- 
ing up  the  stray  grains  which  the  harrow  had  missed,  or 

*  Stanley's  Sinai  and  Palestine,  pp.  421,  422. 

"  Looking  from  Tiberias  towards  the  western  shore,  we  find  the  mountains, 
with  their  terrace-like  sides,  approaching  close  to  the  sea,  but  at  the  distance 
of  about  a  league  they  again  retreat  in  the  form  of  a  wide  arch,  leaving  open  a 
plain  a  league  in  length  and  half  a  league  in  breadth.  It  is  the  land  cf  Genne- 
sareth,  and  it  makes  good  in  an  eminent  degree  all  that  has  been  recorded  of 
the  fruitfulness  of  the  shore." — Straus's  Sinai  and  Golgotha, 


118  MEMORIES  OF  GSNNESAKET. 

which  had  been  tossed  on  the  hardened  foot-road.     It  was  a 
fertile  text  for  His  opening  similitude — "  BEHOLD  A  SOWEB 

WENT  FORTH  TO  SOW  I " 

Before  proceeding  to  the  parable  itself,  let  us  advert  for  a 
moment  to  the  Sower  and  the  Seed. 

We  cannot  for  an  instant  hesitate  in  determining  that  the 
Sower  was,  in  the  first  instance,  Christ  Himself,  and  the  Seed 
those  great  gospel  trutiis  which  He  came  from  heaven  to 
implant  in  the  hearts  of  man.  Moreover,  from  the  diverse 
soils,  spoken  of  in  the  Parable,  on  which  the  seed  was  cast,  it 
is  evident  that  one  of  the  fundamental  lessons  intended  to  be 
therein  set  forth  is — -that  God  soweth  everywhere — that  He 
willeth  that  "all  should  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth/' 
As  in  that  wondrous  and  beauteous  Panorama  of  natural 
scenery  stretching  before  the  Saviour's  eye  in  the  land  of 
Gennesaret,  there  was  every  variety  of  soil,  from  the  mountain- 
sward  and  the  thin  rocky  layer  to  the  loam  of  the  valley, — 
so,  in  the  world  of  human  hearts  and  homes,  was  there  every 
variety  of  condition  and  rank,  disposition  and  character.  But 
the  Sower  was  to  "sow  beside  all  waters" — -He,  the  glorious 
Sun,  was  to  shine  alike  on  palace  and  cottage — on  rich  and 
poor — on  learned  and  despised.  The  gospel  was  to  be 
preached  to  every  creature!  No  waste  so  barren  as  to  forbid 
the  Spiritual  Husbandman's  labour — no  rocky  heart  so  hard 
as  to  be  passed  despairingly  and  unheeded  by.  If  the  scat- 
tered seed,  thus  so  prodigally  cast,  bore  no  produce,  the  fault 
was  not  God's — the  shortcoming  rested  not  with  the  Sower 
but  with  the  ungracious  soil  of  the  human  heart.  He  would 
have  none  to  perish  unwarned  ;  His  gosj.  el  is  preached  "  as  a 
witness  to  all  nations;"  mighty  to  save,  in  the  case  of  those 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED. 

who  meekly  and  lovingly  receive  it,  but  through  the  perver- 
sity of  those  who  reject  it,  mighty  also  to  condemn. 

While  Jesus,  however,  is  the  Great  Sower,  He  has  confided 
the  scattering  of  the  seed — the  preaching  of  His  holy  word 
— to  human  instrumentality.  "  It  has  pleased  God  by  the 
foolishness  of  preaching  to  save  them  that  believe/' 

This  parable  forms  a  picture  of  every  congregation  of 
Christ's  people,  gathered  on  His  own  Day,  throughout  the 
world.  The  living  and  breathing  souls  gathered  within  the 
walls  of  the  sanctuary,  constitute  the  four  diverse  soils  in 
the  human  Landscape — the  Hardened  footpath;  the  Rocky 
covering;  the  Thorny  ground ;  the  Honest  soil.  The  Servant 
of  God — the  spiritual  Husbandman — in  His  name  scatters 
the  seed,  all  in  ignorance  where  it  falls,  how  it  is  received, 
what  is  rooted,  what  is  lost,  what  is  rejected,  what  is  ger- 
minating !  He  cannot  tell  what  is  the  result.  But  another 
there  is  who  CAN — who  does !  Yes  !  it  is  a  solemn  view  to 
take  of  this  great  reality — that  as  we  are  assembled  in  the 
house  of  prayer,  Christ  Himself  is  gazing  upon  us !  He,  the 
Great  Sower  and  Master  Husbandman  (no  longer  in  His  garb 
of  humiliation  on  the  shores  of  an  earthly  lake,  but  from  His 
throne  in  glory),  is  gazing  down  on  the  multitudes  of  im- 
mortal beings  gathered  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  in  His  house 
of  prayer.  We  may  think  little  of  the  solemnity  of  such 
meetings  ;  we  may  view  with  indifference  the  scattering  of 
this  Sabbath  seed.  He  does  NOT  !  As  the  Sabbath-bell  tolls, 
He  hushes  the  songs  of  ministering  seraphim ;  echoing  his 
old  Gennesaret  text  in  their  hearing, — as  if  souls  lost  or  souls 
saved  were  the  result  of  every  sanctuary  convocation: — 
"  BEHOLD  A  so  WEE  GOES  FORTH  TO  sow!" 


1 20  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Let  us  attend,  then,  in  their  order,  to  the  FOUR  different 
classes  of  hearers  specified  by  our  Blessed  Lord  in  this 
parable.  We  s7iall  speak  of  the  first  two  in  the  present 
chapter,  and  reserve  the  consideration  of  the  two  latter  for  a 
subsequent  one.  Observe,  in  all  the  four,  it  is  the  same 
Sower,  the  same  Seed,  the  same  Season  The  effects  alone 
are  different,  arising  from  the  diverse  soil  and  condition  of 
the  human  heart. 

I.  There  are  THE  WAYSIDE  HEARERS.  "  As  he  sowed,  some 
fell  by  the  wayside;  and  it  was  trodden  down,  and  the 
fowls  of  the  air  devoured  it."  * 

Some  corn  seeds  are  here  represented  as  falling  on  the 
hard  beaten  path  in  the  centre  of  the  field  used  by  foot- 
passengers,  or  where  the  waggons  of  traffic  or  the  carts  of 
the  husbandmen  were  in  the  habit  of  going.  It  was  crushed 
under  the  feet  of  the  one,  or  bruised  under  the  wheels  of  the 
other. 

Significant  picture  this,  of  the  hearts  of  many  hearers! 
The  seed  of  the  Word  is  scattered  by  the  preacher's  hand, 
but  it  falls  on  hearts  hard  as  the  beaten  pavement.  Around, 
furrows  may  be  opening  and  inviting  its  entrance,  but 
no  crevice  is  there,  in  these  adamant  souls!  The  procla- 
mation of  the  law  in  its  terrors,  or  the  gospel  with  its  bless- 
ings, is  like  the  winter  winds  or  the  summer  sun,  beating 
on  the  graves  of  the  churchyard :  the  dead  hear  not  the  one 
and  feel  not  the  other.  This  first  class  of  Hearers  come, 
indeed,  to  the  House  of  God.  They  hear  the  Word ;  they 
are  church-goers  if  they  are  nothing  else.  They  must  have  a 

*  Luke  viii.  5. 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  121 

religion  of  some  kind.  To  be  churehless,  would  compromise 
them  in  society ;  it  would  brand  them  in  the  world  of 
fashionable  profession.  They  must  come,  because  others 
come.  The  trumpet-peal  of  custom  is  their  Sabbath-bell. 
They  could  not  enjoy  their  sins  and  follies  but  for  this  mise- 
rable blinder  to  the  world,  this  wretched  opiate  to  their 
consciences.  But,  as  to  all  that  is  spoken  or  heard  (if  heard 
at  all),  they  are  utterly  callous.  They  do  not  perceive  the 
yawning  gulph  of  their  souls'  deep  necessities.  They  have  no 
depressing  consciousness  of  their  lost  condition,  or  of  the 
magnitude  of  things  not  seen.  As  they  sit  in  their  pews, 
their  thoughts  are  all  in  the  world  ;  they  fold  their  arms  and 
lapse  into  one  of  its  dreamy  reveries.  Imagination  becomes 
the  hard-beaten  footway  of  the  text.  Up  comes  the  waggon 
of  Pleasure,  filled  with  the  withered,  faded  garlands  of  last 
week's  follies  and  gaieties,  its  lusts  and  sins,  and  the  antici- 
pations of  fresh  ones !  This  waggon  past,  another  presents 
itself:  it  is  that  of  Business,  lumbering  along  with  its  noisy, 
deafening  wheels.  The  past  week's  gains  and  losses,  its 
happy  hits,  its  vexatious  blunders,  its  clever  tricks  and  suc- 
cessful advantage-takings  ;  perhaps,  conjoined  with  these,  the 
daring  ventures  and  wild  schemings  of  a  desperate  future — 
on  it  comes,  these  dizzy  wheels  of  traffic  crushing  underneath 
them  all  thoughts  of  the  soul,  of  holiness,  of  death,  of  judg- 
ment, of  eternity !  This  waggon  past,  in  some  adjoining 
pew  a  fevered  brain  sees  yet  another  toiling  up  the  hardened 
road,  heavier  laden  still  than  the  others !  It  is  Mammon 
with  his  smoking  team,  pushing  on  with  his  bags  of  gold, 
fearful  of  every  rut  in  the  way  lest  it  may  jolt  his  treasure, 
and  leave  some  glittering  coin  rolling  in  the  dust.  And  yet 


122  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESARET. 

though  a  waggon-load  heaped  high,  all  his  thoughts  are  on 
filling  it  higher  still,  though  this  only  increases  the  chances 
of  jolting  and  loss  1  Yet  on  it  comes  ;  the  precious  seed  is 
scattered,  but  the  iron  wheels  grind  it  to  powder,  pulverising 
into  dust  that  which  is  of  value  infinitely  greater  than  thou- 
sands of  such  gold  and  silver  I 

These  wheels,  observe,  every  time  they  pass,  are  making 
harder  still  the  way,  lessening  the  chance  of  the  seed  germinat- 
ing, giving  to  the  heart  more  of  the  consistency  of  the  rock 
and  granite  than  before.  Oh !  how  many  hearts  thus  become,  in 
the  very  sanctuary,  a  beaten  thoroughfare  for  worldly  schemes, 
and  pleasures,  and  pursuits,  and  interests,  and  devices.  They 
have  no  serious  views  about  God  or  religion.  They  do  not 
feel  that  they  stand  in  any  relation  to  the  seed  sown.  If  the 
truth  were  spoken  plainly  out,  it  is  an  infliction  all  this 
preaching,  and  praying,  and  church-going.  If  it  were  not 
for  the  look  of  the  thing,  they  would  be  done  with  it.  Their 
Religion  at  best  is  a  mere  piece  of  form,  a  grand  figment. 
If  you  speak  to  them  of  holiness,  they  will  say,  "It  is  all  a 
pretence/'  If  you  speak  to  them  of  conversion,  they  will  call 
it  an  enthusiast's  or  fanatic's  dream.  If  you  speak  to  them  of 
death  and  hell,  they  will  turn  uneasy  on  their  seats,  and  say, 
"  We  don't  want  to  hear  of  such  things  just  now/'  In  one 
word,  they  have  no  personal  interest  or  concernment  in  all 
that  is  spoken — "  As  a  deaf  adder,  they  hear  not;"  and  amid  a 
thousand  other  things  that  may  be  flitting  to  and  fro  in  the 
chambers  of  their  memory,  God  is  really  and  truly  "  not  in 
all  their  thoughts/' 

At  times,  indeed,  in  spite  of  themselves,  the  barbed  arrow 
will  strike  them;  conscience  will  speak  and  their  spirits 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  123 

tremble,  and  who  knows  but  that  despised  seed,  lying  for- 
gotten on  the  surface  of  then-  adamant  heart,  might  in  duo 
time  grapple  with  the  ungenial  soil  and  spring  up.  BUT, 
another  Poe  is  at  hand.  If  the  foot  of  traffic  or  the  wheels 
of  woiidliness  fail  to  mutilate  and  crush,  there  is  a  Great 
" Counter- worker"  of  the  Sower,  who  in  the  parable  is  repre- 
sented as  casting  his  dark  shadow  over  the  moral  landscape. 
"  Then  cometh  the  Wicked  One,  and  catcheth  away  that  which 
was  sown  in  his  heart."  *  Satan  the  arch-robber — Apollyon 
"  the  Destroyer,"  is  keeping  his  watchful,  eye  on  the  scattered 
seed.  If  the  waggon  passes  it  unscathed,  he  has  other  means 
at  hand  for  preventing  its  growth. 

As  our  Lord,  in  looking  towards  the  sower  in  Gennesaret, 
probably  saw  a  flock  of  motley  birds  circling  around  him, 
and  darting  down  to  secure  every  stray  grain  which  lay  ex- 
posed on  the  road,  so  Satan,  the  "  Prince  of  the  power  of  the 
air,"  lets  loose  on  the  soul  birds  of  prey,  that  pick  up  every 
spiritual  seed.  Some  grains  may  have  fallen  into  the  ruts  of 
memory,  others  into  the  sacred  crevices  of  conscience;  but  a 
horde  of  winged  thoughts,  evil  desires,  corrupt  passions,  idle 
trifles,  come  sweeping  down  suddenly,  and  leave  the  heart 
bared  and  forsaken ! 

The  corn  grains  of  impression  may  be  lying  on  the  heart 
of  the  hearer  when  the  parting  blessing  is  pronounced,  and 
he  rises  from  his  seat  to  retire  from  the  House  of  God. 
But  crossing  the  threshold,  the  old  familiar  world  is  there 
again,  with  its  blue,  or  hazy,  or  wintry  sky,  as  the  case  may 
be.  There  has  been  enough  of  serious  talk  in  church.  In  five 
minutes  or  less,  he  is  back  again  to  the  old  starting-point 

*  Matt.  xiii.  19. 


124  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

— the  absorbing  topics  of  the  day.  These  seem  now  invested 
with  all-engrossing  reality.  If  some  stray  grain  be  still  left, 
it  is  not  allowed  long  to  linger ;  any  startling  thought,  any 
rousing  or  solemnising  impression  is  effaced  like  the  rippled 
sand-marks  by  the  first  rising  tide. 

Ah,  how  great  are  the  devices — the  " depths  of.  Satan!" 
He  has  been  studying  that  heart  of  man,  with  its  beaten 
footways,  for  6000  years !  Every  year  he  is  profiting  by 
past  experience.  How  terrible  to  think  that  he  makes  the 
very  House  of  God  his  whispering-gallery;  that  into  its 
sacred  precincts — the  very  Holy  of  holies — or  into  the  secret 
chamber  of  devotion — sweep  his  accursed  legions  to  rob  the 
soul  of  the  Salvation  so  dearly  purchased  and  so  freely 
offered ! 

Be  not  ignorant  of  his  devices  !  He  employs  thoughts ; 
wandering,  flighty,  winged  fancies,  as  his  Birds  of  prey, — 
in  themselves  apparently  harmless,  but  potent  enough  to 
pillage  the  heart  of  its  best  treasures.  It  matters  not  to 
him  what  the  instrumentality  is,  if  he  only  succeed  in  ab- 
stracting the  mind  from  grander  realities ; — if  the  thought 
of  Eternity  be  only  kept  in  abeyance. 

Beware  of  a  wandering  heart  in  the  Sanctuary,  leaving  the 
seed  to  fall  neglected  and  uncared  for  !  If  Israel  of  old  left 
the  manna  ungathered  when  it  fell,  it  melted  away ;  it  was 
shrivelled  in  the  sun's  rays  ;  the  day's  supply  was  forfeited, 
and  nothing  could  compensate  for  the  loss.  Seek  to  remember, 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  as  you  take  your  places  in  the  courts 
of  the  Lord,  that  you  cannot  retire  as  you  entered  ;  that  the 
seed  then  sown  must  have  a  bearing  on  your  eternity;  that 
the  gospel  then  preached  must  be  either  the  "  savour  of  life 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  125 

unto  life,"  or  "  of  death  unto  death  !  "  "  Be  ye  doers  of  the 
word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your  ownselves  ;  for  if 
any  be  a  hearer  of  the  word,  and  not  a  doer,  he  is  like  unto 
a  man  beholding  his  natural  face  in  a  glass,  for  he  beholdeth 
himself  and  goeth  his  way,  and  straightway  forgetteth  what 
manner  of  man  he  was."  "This,  then,  is  he  who  received 
seed  by  the  wayside." 

II.  We  turn  now  to  the  second  class  spoken  of  in  the 
parable:  The  STONY-GROUND  HEARERS.  "And  some  fell," 
says  St  Luke,  "upon  a  rock,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  sprung 
up,  it  withered  away,  because  it  lacked  moisture."  The 
parallel  passage  in  St  Matthew  is,  "  Some  fell  upon  stony 
places,  where  they  had  not  much  earth,  and  forthwith  they 
sprang  up,  because  they  had  no  deepness  of  earth,  and  when 
the  sun  was  up  they  were  scorched,  and  because  they  had  no 
root  they  withered  away" 

By  what  is  here  called  "stony  places"  we  are  not  to 
understand  fragments  of  loose  rock  or  stone,  into  the  crevices 
or  interstices  of  which  the  seed  fell ;  for  if  so,  it  might  have 
found  its  way  to  the  soil  below,  and  in  spite  of  the  impedi- 
ments and  darkness  that  obstructed  and  dwarfed  its  growth, 
it  might  have  struggled  upwards  to  the  air  and  sunlight,  and 
gathered  strength  by  the  very  difficulties  it  had  to  encounter. 
By  "stony  places,"  our  Lord  intends  rather  one  of  those 
manifold  rocks  abutting  into  the  plain  of  Gennesaret  and 
fringing  its  rich  corn-fields,  on  which  there  was  a  thin  layer 
or  deposit  of  mould,  sufficient  to  conceal  the  naked  stone, 
but  not  sufficient  to  afford  nutriment  to  bring  the  seed  to 
perfection.  The  present,  however,  is  unlike  the  previous 


126  MEMORIES  OF  GENNE3ARET. 

description  of  the  Wayside-seed.  There,  the  grain  was  either 
trampled  under  foot,  or  carried  away  by  marauding  birds. 
Now,  it  springs  up — and  moreover,  it  does  so  "forthwith" 
"  quickly,"  "  with  joy."  There  is  a  marvellously  rapid  growth. 
While  in  the  rich  soil  around,  the  germinating  seed  has  not 
burst  its  clod,  and  no  flush  of  green  is  visible,  the  grain  on 
the  rocky  knoll  is  shooting  upwards  with  precocious  vigour, 
and  giving  promise  of  speedy  perfection. 

But,  the  discerning  eye  of  the  Husbandman  knows  better ! 
It  is  an  unhealthy  vitality ;  it  cannot  strike  its  fibres  down- 
wards into  the  adamant  stone :  "  It  has  no  depth  of  earth" 
— no  root,  no  moisture.  The  underlying  rock,  by  the  heat 
which  it  retains,  may  warm  the  superincumbent  mould,  and 
thus  act  as  a  rapid  stimulant  to  the  seed.  But,  soonest  green, 
it  is  soonest  decayed  ;  it  is  stalk-growth,  nothing  more.  The 
blazing  sun  sends  down  its  fiery  rays,  the  mushroom  plant 
droops,  and  withers,  and  dies  ! 

This  is  a  truthful  picture  of  a  new,  and,  at  first  sight,  a 
more  promising  set  of  Hearers.  "  He  that  received  the  seed 
into  stony  places,  the  same  is  he  that  heareth  the  word  and 
anon  with  joy  receiveth  it :  yet  hath  he  no  root  in  himself, 
but  dureth  for  a  while,  for  when  tribulation  or  persecution 
arise th  for  the  word's  sake,  by  and  by  he  is  offended/'  * 
"They  on  the  rock/'  says  St  Luke,  "are  they  who  when  they 
hear  receive  the  word  with  joy,  and  these  have  no  root ;  who 
for  a  while  believe  and  in  time  of  temptation  fall  away/' 
They  represent  that  class  of  hearers  in  our  churches  who  are 
susceptible  of  strong  and  lively  emotions.  Not  like  the  preced- 
ing class,  who  are  careless  and  apathetic,  they  enjoy  a  preached 

*  Matt.  xiii.  20,  21. 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  127 

Gospel.  They  are  easily  stirred  under  its  urgent  messages. 
As  the  ambassador  of  Christ  scatters  his  seed,  and  discourses 
of  man's  responsibility — the  certainty  of  judgment — the 
awfulness  of  the  second  death ! — their  spirits  thrill  under  the 
startling  averments ;  resolutions  of  new  obedience  are  formed 
— the  church  is  left  with  a  tear  in  their  eye  and  the  iron  in 
their  soul.  But  then,  it  is  all  surface  work — superficial, 
shallow  impression.  It  has  sprung  up  under  the  stimulating 
heat  of  excitement,  and  expends  itself  in  emotional  feeling. 
The  underlying  proud  rocky  heart,  apparently  more  influ- 
enced and  impressed,  is  really  harder  than  the  beaten  foot- 
road  representing  the  former  class.  The  roots  have  taken 
no  vital  grasp — they  are  spreading  and  straggling  along  the 
upper  layer  of  profession — they  have  no  hold  on  the  inner 
deeps  of  the  man's  being — the  heart  remains  unconverted  as 
before.  They  are  the  class  spoken  of  by  the  prophet  Eze- 
kiel — "And  they  come  unto  thee  as  the  people  cometh,  and 
they  sit  before  thee  as  my  people,  and  they  hear  thy  words, 
but  they  will  not  do  them :  for  with  their  mouth  they  shew 
much  love,  but  their  heart  goeth  after  their  covetousness. 
And  lo  thou  art  unto  them  as  a  very  lovely  song  of  one  that 
hath  a  pleasant  voice,  and  can  play  well  on  an  instrument : 
for  they  hear  thy  words,  but  they  do  them  not."  *  In  one 
word,  theirs  is  a  religion  of  smiles  and  sunbeam — a  summer- 
walk,  all  prosperous  so  long  as  no  dreary  cloud  sweeps 
across  their  landscape.  But  when  Trial  comes — when  they 
are  brought  to  know  the  great  truth,  " no  cross  no  crown' 
— that  the  Religious  life  is  no  sailing  down  the  current,  but 
a  breasting  of  the  waters — a  denial  if  self — a  struggle  with 

*  Ezekiel  xxxiii.  31   82. 


128  MEMORIES  OF  GENM'SARET. 

corruption — a  parting  with  loved  sins ;  when  brought  face 
to  face  with  some  strong  temptation,  the  grappling  with 
some  vile  temper,  the  resistance  of  some  viler  lust — ah! 
whenever  this  Sun  of  trial  and  tribulation  rises,  the  precocious 
promise  turns  out  to  be  a  mockery.  Their  soul  shrivels  into 
the  old  lifeless  thing  it  ever  was.  Their  Religion  is  based 
on  no  solid  principle  :  it  is  like  the  fretful  treacherous  ocean 
— the  ruffle  is  only  on  the  surface,  underneath  is  the  deep 
calm  of  death ! 

Of  this  class  we  have  many  Scripture  examples. 

Take  one.  Demas  had  been  a  faithful  disciple  of  St 
Paul ;  he  had  loved  his  noble  master ;  he  had  enjoyed  his 
faithful  preaching;  he  had  accompanied  him  in  his  journey- 
ings,  and  taken  a  share  in  the  proclamation  of  his  gospel. 
But  in  later  times,  Persecution  arrests  the  apostle  in  his 
labours.  Old  and  infirm,  he  is  cast  into  the  Mammertine 
prison  in  the  Roman  capital.  If  ever  he  needed  the  hand 
and  voice  of  earthly  friendship,  it  was  now — to  smoothe  his 
pillow  of  straw  and  speak  peace  to  his  downcast  spirit !  But 
Demas  (faithful  in  prosperity)  turns  recreant  and  coward  in 
adversity.  The  sun  of  trial  and  fierce  tribulation  arises  "for 
the  word's  sake/' — The  leaves  of  a  lifetime  fail.  Scorched 
and  withered  and  blighted,  his  lonely  master  has  to  utter 
through  sorrowing  tears,  "Demas  h<  th  forsaken  me,  having 
loved  this  present  world!" 

Beware  of  this  superficial  Religion — this  Religion  of  frames 
and  feelings  and  strong  impulses. 

Nothing  that  is  superficial  lasts.  The  superficial  house 
will  soon  totter  to  its  foundations :  the  superficial  book  will 
fret  its  little  hour  before  its  author  and  itself  are  consigned  to 


THE  SO  WEE  AND  THE  SEED.  1  29 

oblivion :  the  superficial  student  may  acquire  a  surface-talk 
on  everything,  and  be  full  of  youthful  promise;  but  when 
launched  into  the  world,  he  will  soon  find  that  nothing  will 
stand  but  the  deep,  the  solid,  the  real.  So  it  is  with  the  reli- 
gious Life.  No  evanescent  emotions  dare  come  in  place  of  real 
heart-change.  Do  not  suffer  mere  impressions  to  evaporate 
before  they  issue  in  saving  conversion.  The  impressions 
made  by  a  rousing  sermon  are  no  more  Religion,  than  the 
hearing  of  a  salvo  of  artillery  on  a  review-day  might  be 
called  fighting. 

That  is  real  religion  which  can  be  carried  with  you  into 
your  families — your  business — the  coarse  contacts  and  toiling 
drudgeries  of  life ; — that  can  stand  unscathed  in  the  whirlwind 
of  temptation,  trial  only  leading  you  nearer  God ; — like  the 
flower  long  imprisoned  in  the  dark  dungeon,  but  whose  roots 
are  watered  by  some  hidden  kindly  spring,  and  which,  when 
the  iron  doors  are  opened,  turns  its  leaves  joyously  and 
lovingly  to  the  sunlight. 

This  our  age  has  in  it,  we  fear,  much  affinity  with  the 
second  class  spoken  of  in  the  Parable.  Surface-work  in  all 
things,  is  its  distinguishing  characteristic.  Frivolous  gaieties 
are  too  often  the  layer  on  which  its  very  religion  grows. 
Souls — selfish  souls  covered  over  with  the  wreck  and  debris  of 
worldliness — come  and  sit  in  our  churches  to  get  their  share 
of  the  Sabbath-seed.  Saturday  evening  has  closed  over 
scenes  of  giddy  pleasures.  Weary  and  jaded,  they  come  to  a 
new  scene  of  mental  excitement,  to  indulge  in  a  new  class  of 
feverish  emotions  in  the  house  of  God.  The  reaction  is  not 
displeasing.  Heart- sick,  it  may  be,  with  the  week's  frivoli- 
ties— wearied  in  body  and  mind — they  sit  with  complacency 

I 


130  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

to  hear  of  their  sins;  they  heave  some  sighs  over  their  follies; 
they  feel  that  they  have  been  mocked  in  their  pursuit  of 
pleasure,  and  as  they  listen  to  the  sublime  lessons — the 
hopes — the  promises — the  joys  of  the  Gospel — a  tear  starts 
to  their  eye  and  a  pang  visits  their  souls.  The  Seed  of  pro- 
mise seems  for  the  moment  to  have  taken  root  and  sprung. 
But  soon  Monday  treads  on  the  heels  of  Sabbath-hours  and 
Sabbath-resolutions.  From  the  ball-room  to  the  church, 
from  the  church  to  the  ball-room.  The  world's  sun  is  up 
again  in  the  horizon.  The  giddy  soul  rushes  afresh,  head- 
long into  temptation.  Amid  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  that 
withering  world  the  sickly  leaves  pine  and  die ! 

Seek  to  avoid  anything  and  everything  that  tends  to  foster 
this  life  of  cold  indurating  selfishness — the  life  of  Pleasure 
which  is  a  life  of  death.  This  life  of  mere  Sabbath  emotion 
and  weekly  godlessness  is  one  of  awful  peril.  It  deceives 
the  soul.  It  makes  you  believe  there  is  a  merit  in  coming  to 
church,  and  in  sowing  the  seed  on  the  rock  of  weekly  selfish- 
ness, though  it  withers  before  evening  has  gathered  around 
you  its  shadows. 

Better,  you  may  say,  a  withered  stalk  than  none  at  all. 
Better  these  few  Sabbath  sighs  and  tears  and  pious  excite- 
ment than  treading  the  seed  under  foot,  and  denying  it  all 
entrance  into  the  memory  or  heart.  Oh !  is  it  come  to  this, 
that  a  few  wretched  sighs  and  tears  and  emotions  on  Sunday, 
are  to  purchase  absolution  for  a  week's  frivolity  and  sin ; — -as 
if,  by  wearing  this  garment  of  Sabbath  sackcloth,  you  could, 
with  greater  impunity,  during  the  week,  wear  "  the  garment 
spotted  by  the  flesh?"  You  are  thereby  only  throwing  a  sop 
to  an  accusing  conscience.  You  are  wasting  the  Good  Seed, 


THE  COWER  AND  THE  SEED.  131 

which  might  have  been  cast  with  advantage  on  other  and 
kindlier  soil.  You  are  resting  satisfied  with  the  husk  and 
shell  of  Religion,  despising  its  kernel.  You  are  blinding  your 
own  eyes  to  the  fact  which  the  great  Harvest-time  of  the 
world  will  force  on  you,  that  you  are  contenting  yourself  with 
"  a  name  to  live  while  you  are  spiritually  dead/' 

It  is  a  tsrrible  thing  thus  to  be  sowing  to  the  wind  and 
reaping  the  whirlwind — to  be  forfeiting  and  abusing  oppor- 
tunities, and  causing  the  very  Ordinances  of  God  to  aggra- 
vate alike  your  guilt  and  condemnation.  Even  your  very 
Afflictions  will  be  unsanctified.  If  the  Seed  had  sunk  into  a 
good  soil,  when  the  sun  of  Trial  pours  down  its  rays,  its  heat 
would  nourish  and  foster  it.  But  that  seed,  falling  on  "a 
rock-bed  of  selfishness" — on  the  thin  layer  besprinkling  a 
godless  heart  —  lo!  when  affliction  arises,  the  heat  only 
scorches  and  burns,  embittering  the  pangs  of  the  evil  day. 
Like  fabled  Icarus  soaring  aloft  on  his  waxen  wings — borne 
upwards  for  a  time  on  the  breezes  of  prosperity — when  you 
come  to  face  the  fiery  Sun — the  wings  melt,  and  you  fall 
powerless  to  the  earth. 

Reader!  while  the  hypocrite's  hope  shall  perish,  seek  to 
be  so  rooted  in  the  faith, — grounded  in  the  1(  T  .  of  Christ, 
that  when  the  great  trial-hour  shall  come ; — when  the  branch 
shall  be  stripped  of  its  verdure — "  the  beautiful  rod"  broken 
— and,  as  in  the  vision  of  the  Apocalypse,  "  all  the  green  grass 
burnt  up" — it  may  be  yours  exulting,  in  the  precious  seed 
that  has  fallen  deep  into  your  hearts,  to  say,  "The  grass 
withereth,  the  flower  fadeth,  but  the  word  of  our  God  shall 
stand  for  ever." 


EXl 

anb  %  Steetr. 


Bow  in  the  morn  thy  seed, 

At  eve  hold  not  thy  hand, 
To  doubt  and  fear  give  thou  no  heed, 

Broad  cast  it  o'er  the  land. 

Thou  canst  not  toil  in  vain — 

Cold,  heat,  and  moist,  and  dry, 
Shall  foster  and  mature  the  grain 

For  garners  in  the  sky. 

And  duly  shall  appear 

In  beauty,  verdure,  strength, 
The  tender  blade,  the  stalk,  the  ear, 

And  the  full  corn  at  length. 

"Hear  ye  therefore  the  parable  of  the  sower."— MATT.  xiii.  ;  MABK  ir.  it 
LUKE  viii.  4. 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter,  our  attention  was  directed  to  two 
classes  in  the  P ARABLE  OF  THE  SOWER — The  Wayside  and 
Stony-ground  hearers.  We  shall  proceed  to  consider  the 
two  remaining  soils  our  Lord  here  describes — the  Thorny 
and  the  Good  ground. 

The  third  class  He  speaks  of  are  the  THORNY-GROUND 
HEARERS.  "  And  some  fell  among  thorns;  and  the  thorns 
sprang  up  with  it,  and  choked  it."*  "  He  also  that  received 
seed  among  the  thorns,  is  he  that  heareth  the  word;  and  the 
care  of  this  world,  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riclies,  choke  the 
word,  and  he  becometh  unfruitful."-^ 

The  Seed,  you  observe  here,  takes  root — it  penetrates  more 
deeply  than  in  either  of  the  preceding  cases.  The  soil  was 
no  longer  the  superficial  layer  on  the  top  of  the  rock ;  if 
justice  had  been  done  to  it,  the  result  must  have  been  an 
ample  produce.  But  the  good  seed  was  "strangled"];  by 
rival  occupants.  Thorns  were  there — not  thorns  already 
grown  and  covering  the  surface,  but  old  unextirpated  roots, 
which,  at  the  insertion  of  the  seed,  may  have  shewn  no 
vestige  above  ground,  but  which,  ere  long,  began  to  push 
upwards  in  their  former  strength.  Being  the  stronger  of 
the  two,  indigenous  to  the  soil, — old  possessors, — they  soon 
proved  more  than  a  match  for  the  tiny  stalks  of  grain, 

*  Luke  via.  7.     t  Matt.  xiii.  7,  22.     J  So  rendered  in  Wycliffe's  translation. 


134  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAIiET. 

strangling  them  with  their  prickly  bran  dies  ;  (literally)  "they 
went  in  between  the  wheat,  and  choked  it." 

The  evil  was  twofold :  the  Thorns  drew  that  nutriment 
from  the  soil  which  otherwise  the  germinating  seed  would 
have  appropriated.  There  was  room  for  one,  but  not  for 
both.  The  sap  that  would  have  sent  its  vivifying  juices  up 
the  stalk  of  corn,  expended  itself  mainly  on  the  stronger 
rival.  The  corn  plant  grew  up,  therefore,  a  dwarfed  and 
sickly  thing  from  the  exhausted  and  impoverished  soil. 

But  there  was  another  evil  entailed  by  these  thorny  occu- 
pants of  the  ground ; — they  hid  out  the  sunlight.  Their 
thick  bristling  boughs  (thicker  than  the  thorns  in  our 
country)  interrupted  and  intercepted  the  two  great  supports 
of  vegetable  life — Air  and  Sunshine.  Thus,  though  some  of 
the  corn  stalks  shot  up,  struggling  into  existence  in  spite  of 
these  impediments,  what  mattered  it?  The  ear  was  hollow — 
the  fruit  worthless.  The  reaper's  sickle  passed  them  by  un- 
touched. They  were  but  mockeries  of  his  toil ;  they  would 
only  encumber  his  barn ;  or,  if  mixed  with  other  grain,  injure 
and  detract  from  its  quality. 

Here  is  the  third  picture  of  the  Hearers  of  the  word.  The 
Seed  of  immortal  truth  finds  deep  lodgment  in  their  me- 
mories and  hearts.  The  great  requirements  of  the  soul — 
the  great  questions  of  eternity  are,  for  awhile  at  least,  no 
superficial  matters.  They  feel  the  momentous  interests  at 
stake.  They  sit  in  breathless  and  arrested  solemnity  under 
the  proclamation  of  the  gospel.  They  like  faithful  preach- 
ing. They  are  not  as  the  former  class,  who  would  take 
offence  at  bold  statements ;  who  warn  their  ministers  to 
lower  their  standard  lest  they  leave  their  church ;  who 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  135 

try  to  inveigle  their  spiritual  teachers  into  that  greatest 
snare — preaching  smooth  things.  They  relish  the  full  and 
gracious  unfolding  of  the  plan  of  Redemption.  Christ  cru- 
cified they  are  willing  to  take  as  the  alone  "  power  of  God 
unto  salvation."  But  soon  a  great  and  crying  evil  develops 
itself  at  the  very  root  of  their  spiritual  being.  Unextirpated 
habits  and  tastes  and  propensities,  for  awhile  muffled  and 
concealed,  begin  to  manifest  their  presence  and  power  in  the 
soil  of  the  heart.  Religion  springs  up — but,  lo !  it  is  a 
dwarfed  and  mangled  thing ;  for  side  by  side  with  it  there 
are  old  and  vicious  principles  and  practices.  These,  like  the 
Thorns,  are  of  spontaneous  growth, — natural  to  the  heart ; 
while  the  Word,  like  the  corn-seed,  is  an  exotic.  The  new- 
born principle  has  no  chance  with  the  old  veteran  owners 
of  the  soil ;  spiritual  things  have  to  wage  an  unequal  conflict 
with  those  of  the  earth,  earthy ;  and  what  is  the  result? — the 
life  of  godliness  is  eaten  out  and  consumed — the  soul  "  brings 
forth  no  fruit  to  perfection" — Satan's  devices  within  the 
heart  are  more  mischievous  and  more  fatal  than  his  troop  of 
birds  from  without — and  "  the  last  state  of  this  man  is  worse 
than  the  first." 

Our  Blessed  Lord  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  what  is 
meant  by  these  thorns.  He  tells  us  they  are  "  the  cares  of 
this  world,  and  the  deceitfidness  of  riches."  These  monster 
impediments  have  been  rightly  regarded  as  the  two  great, 
though  diverse  causes,  of  spiritual  declension  and  decay; — 
and  both  in  equal  antagonism  to  the  soul's  progress. 

"  The  Cares  of  the  world" — the  poor  man's  birthright  of 
penury — the  weekly  and  daily  struggle  with  oppression  and 
want — living,  as  he  often  does,  from  hand  to  mouth — an  un- 


136  MEMORIES  OF  GEJSNESARET. 

provided  morrow  forecasting  its  dark  shadows  upon  him, 
and  blinding  his  soul  to  its  nobler  destinies ; — with  so  many 
things  to  be  careful  and  troubled  about  in  this  world,  that 
the  one  thing  needful  is  kept  in  abeyance  and  thrust  into  a 
corner.  His  family — his  house-rent — his  trade — his  mer- 
chandise— his  daily  toil — these  are  the  bristling  thorns  that 
are  overmastering  better  thoughts,  and  better  times,  and 
better  resolutions.  When  he  started  on  his  journey — fresh 
from  a  mother's  prayers — the  precious  seed  seemed  to  have 
taken  thorough  root ;  but  life,  with  its  feverish  anxieties  and 
cankering  cares,  has  eaten  out  the  memory  of  a  parent's 
sacred  words  and  admonitions.  The  foot-road  to  the  place 
of  prayer  is  choked  with  entangling  weeds.  It  was  once  a 
well-beaten  path,  but  the  thorn  and  the  nettle,  in  wild 
luxuriance,  tell  the  too  truthful  story  of  a  knee  unbent — 
prayer  neglected — God  forgotten  ! 

The  other  and  opposite  cause  of  strangling  the  seed  is  the 
"  Deceitfulness  of  riches." 

The  Poor  man's  spiritual  life  is  choked  with  needless  cares 
— penury  staring  him  in  the  face  with  its  real  or  imagined 
evils.  The  Kich  man  is  endangered  and  imperilled  by  the 
Deceitfulness  of  riches. 

But  mistake  us  not — there  is  no  necessary  deceitfulness 
in  Riches  themselves.  It  would  be  a  hard  thing  if  God 
poured  affluence  into  a  man's  lap,  and  all  the  while  was 
pouring  a  curse !  It  is  not  the  mere  fact  of  a  man  being  a 
millionaire — having  bags  of  gold  in  his  possession — that 
brings  him  under  the  category  of  a  Thorny-ground  Hearer. 
Whe'n  Christ  says,  "  How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  He  means  they  who  trust 


THE  SOWEE  AND  THE  SEED.  137 

in  riches — who  make  rLhes  their  idol — and  clutch  their 
gold  as  if  it  were  the  gate  of  heaven.  The  poor,  mean, 
miserable  beggar,  who  has  his  hoarded  pence  sewed  up  in 
the  rags  he  wears,  or  the  rags  he  sleeps  on,  is  destroying  his 
soul  as  much  with  these  "  choking  thorns"  as  the  lordly  Miser 
with  his  coveted  thousands.  The  Waggon  we  have  already 
spoken  of,  as  crushing  under  its  grinding  wheels  the  seed 
scattered  on  the  wayside,  is  as  much  a  mammon-load  whether 
a  poor  man  sits  hugging  his  bags  of  copper,  or  a  Croesus  sits 
trembling  amid  his  chests  of  gold. 

"  The  Greek  word  TT\OVTO<;  (it  has  been  noted  by  a  learned 
commentator)  is  not  riches  absolutely  as  possessed,  but  riches 
desired/'*  Avarice  is  a  quality  of  mind — a  base  principle 
of  earth-born  souls  common  to  rich  and  poor — to  the  Dives 
and  the  Lazarus — in  the  extremes  of  society; — to  the  man 
eating  his  crust  of  bread,  and  the  man  wearing  his  purple  and 
fine  linen.  But  however  this  love  of  gold  may  develop  itself, 
— (whether  in  hasting  to  be  rich,  or  in  the  cursed  ambition 
that,  like  a  raging  fever,  has  seized  all  men  to  affect  style 
and  greatness  beyond  their  rank — amassing  only  for  personal 
aggrandisement  and  selfish  extravagance) — when  a  man  whose 
soul  has  been  once  fired  with  better  things — who  was  once 
feelingly  alive  to  his  spiritual  necessities,  and  once  drank 
greedily  in  the  truths  of  the  gospel- — when  that  man  sur- 
renders himself  to  the  tyranny  of  these  lusts,  allowing  them 
to  twist  their  roots  round  the  very  nerves  and  sinews  of 
his  being,  either  for  the  wretched  pleasure  of  living  penu- 
riously,  or  living  and  dying  a  prodigal  spendthrift — what 
more  appropriate  description  could  be  given  of  the  ruinous 

*  A13  rd's  Greek  Testaraenfc. 


138  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

deceitfulness  of  these  riches  than  this,  that  the  good  seed 
"fell  among  thorns,  and  the  thorns  sprang  up  and  choked 
it?" 

What  a  living  protest  have  we  in  these  "  Thorny  ground 
hearers" — this  third  class  in  the  parable,  against  the  great 
crying  sin  of  our  day — the  rock  on  which  vessels  freighted 
with  immortality  are  weekly  wrecked  and  foundering  !  Men 
of  promise  and  high  aspirations  —  men  even  of  religious 
training  and  religious  profession — become  seized  with  the 
accursed  thirst  for  gold — bartering  health,  jnorals,  prin- 
ciple, social  ties,  life  itself,  in  this  demon-scramble.  The 
cold-blooded  murders,  and  villain  plunderings  of  the  street 
and  the  highway,  perpetrated  by  the  dregs  of  society,  are 
not  one  whit  more  heinous  in  the  sight  of  God,  than  are 
the  polished  counterparts  of  social  and  individual  baseness, 
where  the  betrayal  of  high  trust,  or  the  delirium  of  wild 
speculation,  has  embittered  the  widow's  tears,  defrauded  the 
orphan  of  his  bread,  and  left  happy  firesides  stripped  and 
desolate.  Well  did  He  who  knew  the  human  heart  denounce 
" covetousness"  as  ''idolatry."  Depend  upon  it,  God  will 
visit  our  land  and  our  time  with  judgment,  if  this  usurping 
Dagon  be  not  hurled  from  its  throne.  It  is  this  mammon- 
spirit  which,  in  the  case  of  all  ancient  nations,  formed  the  first 
symptom  of  decadence  and  decrepitude — the  first  impelling 
wave  which  rose  to  a  wild  deluge  of  ruin.  God  keep  us 
from  the  verge  of  this  engulphing  whirlpool,  and  tune  our 
lips  more  to  the  music  and  spirit  of  the  prayer  of  honest, 
contented,  unostentatious  frugality  — "  Give  me  neither 
poverty  nor  riches — feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me!" 

And  as  the  Deceitfulness  of  riches  is  common  alike  to 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  139 

poor  and  rich,  so  would  I  add,  that  "the  Cares  of  this  life'1 
must  by  no  means  be  considered  as  spiritual  hindrances 
peculiar  to  the  poor. 

Alas!  in  every  rank,  in  every  station,  these  distracting, 
disquieting  solicitudes  are  a  sore  enemy  of  the  soul's  wel- 
fare. It  is  no  light  thing  thus  to  suffer  the  heart  to  be 
unduly  engrossed  with  these  earthly  cares.  Christ  Himself 
includes  them  in  a  catalogue  of  great  sins.  Were  you  never 
struck  with  these  words  ?  "  Take  heed/'  says  He,  "  to  your- 
selves, lest  at  any  time  your  hearts  be  overcharged  with  sur- 
feiting and  drunkenness/'  And  what  follows  ?  is  it  the  men- 
tion of  some  other  low  and  grovelling  lust  ?  Hear  what  He 
says,  "Surfeiting,  drunkenness,  AND  CAKES  OF  THIS  LIFE, 
and  so  that  day  overtake  you  as  a  thief/' 

"  Cares"  every  one  must  have.  It  would  be  an  idle 
mockery  to  say,  "  Bury  your  cares !  Cares  and  religion  are 
incompatible.  Let  your  family  shift  for  themselves.  Take 
no  thought  of  the  morrow/'  This  would  be  presumption;  not 
faith.  It  would  be  fatalism,  not  trust.  It  would  be  the 
argument  for  the  selfish  isolation  of  the  hermit's  cell — the 
sinful  ignoring  of  life's  duties — the  denial  of  the  common 
debt  due  to  the  vast  brotherhood  of  man.  But  be  on  your 
guard  against  excess  of  care,  or  unlawful  care.  It  is  the 
attribute  of  the  worldly — the  unregenerate — that  they  "  mind 
earthly  things."  They  are  grovellers.  Their  souls  "cleave 
to  the  dust,"  instead  of  soaring  heavenwards.  They  are  con- 
tent with  the  prodigal's  portion  in  the  far  country,  when 
they  might  have  been  guests  at  their  Father's  ample  board 
and  joyous  home. 

You  will  carefully  observe  that  the  great  evil  of  the  Thorny 


14-0  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

ground  Hearers  was,  that  they  were  content  to  let  the  seed 
fall  in  an  unprepared  heart.  By  a  blunder  in  spiritual 
husbandry,  they  had  neglected  to  root  out  latent  principles 
of  evil,  which  afterwards  rose  with  giant  growth,  and  crushed 
and  mangled  every  stalk  of  spiritual  promise.  The  contend- 
ing thorns  and  seed  illustrate,  by  parabolic  figure,  a  former 
saying  of  Christ,  "No  man  can  serve  two  masters;''  "Ye 
cannot  serve  God  and  mammon."  I  repeat  what  I  have 
already  said — no  soil  has  sufficient  sap  to  mature  both  thorns 
and  grain — the  presence  and  growth  of  the  one  must  inevit- 
ably alienate  the  vital  juices  and  nutriment  that  would 
otherwise  have  contributed  to  the  strength  and  growth  of 
the  other.  It  can  bear  wheat,  or  it  can  bear  thorns,  but  it 
has  not  the  productive  power  to  bear  the  two.  So  it  is 
in  the  spiritual  field.  You  cannot  have  your  crop  of  sin 
and  your  fruits  of  righteousness.  You  cannot  live  both  for 
time  and  eternity.  By  seeking  to  retain  both  worlds,  you 
lose  both. 

See  that  every  root  of  bitterness  likely  hereafter  to  spring 
up  and  trouble  you  be  eradicated ; — all  idle  frivolities — all 
guilty  pleasures — all  occupations  of  doubtful  propriety  likely 
to  dislodge  God  from  the  heart.  By  indulging  in  these,  you 
are  wilfully  denuding  j^ourselves  of  gospel  blessings.  You 
are  shackling  yourselves  so  as  to  be  unable  to  stoop  to  the 
joyous  fountain  gushing  at  your  feet,  and  to  partake  of  its 
living  stream.  When  you  go  to  prayer,  the  key  has  gathered 
over  it  the  rust  of  worldliness.  It  can  no  longer  fit  the  lock. 
You  kneel  in  your  closets ;  but,  lo !  the  wheels  of  devotion, 
like  those  of  Pharaoh's  chariots,  are  taken  off,  or  drag  heavily. 
And  then,  what  is  the  inevitable  result?  "A  divided  will 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  ]  4 1 

a  half  service,  evor  ends  in  the  prevalence  of  evil  over  good." 
The  half-hearted  believer — the  border  Christian — the  loiterer 
between  the  kingdoms  of  light  and  darkness — spoken  of  in 
this  third  class,  cannot  linger  long  where  he  is ;  darkness 
gets  the  better  of  light — conscience  gets  more  and  more 
drugged  and  stupified — the  upspringing  seed  goes  from 
weakness  to  weakness — the  latent  thorny  corruptions  from 
strength  to  strength ! 

Now,  in  all  these  third-class  cases  in  the  parable  we  have 
hitherto  considered,  there  is  a  seeming  and  apparent  progress 
to  something  better — a  nearer  approach  to  the  character  of  a 
true  believer.  But  it  is  in  semblance,  not  in  reality.  The 
guilt  of  the  three  may  rather  and  more  truthfully  be  taken 
in  an  inverse  ratio  from  the  order  stated  here  ;* — the  deep- 
rooted  corruption  of  the  heart  manifesting  itself  with  greater 
intensity  at  each  advancing  step.  The  beaten  road — then 
the  rocky  ground — then,  in  spite  of  great  promise  and  great 
privilege,  the  choking  thorns.  "  The  climax  is  APPARENTLY 
from  bad  to  better.  The  first  understand  not.  The  second 
understand  and  feel.  The  third  understand,  feel,  and  prac- 
tise. But  in  REAL  DEGREE  it  is  from  BAD  to  WORSE.  Less 
awful  is  the  state  of  those  who  understand  not  the  word, 
and  lose  it  immediately,  than  that  of  those  who  feel  it, 
receive  it  with  joy,  and  in  time  of  trial  fall  away.  Less 
awful,  again,  this  last,  than  that  of  those  who  understand, 
feel,  and.  practise,  but  are  fruitless  and  impure."-^ 

We  pass  on  now  to  the  Fourth  and  last  class  of  Hearers. 
"But  other  fell  into  good  ground,  and  brought  forth  fruit. 
•  Drummond  on  the  Parables,  p.  367  t  Alford,  in  loco. 


142  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

some  an  hundredfold,  some  sixty  fold,  some  thirty  fold!'  We 
may  take  the  explanation  of  this  as  given  by  St  Luke : — 
"  That  on  the  good  ground  are  they,  which  in  an  honest  and 
good  heart,  having  heard  the  word,  k*ep  it,  and  bring  forth 
fruit  with  patience!'* 

We  are  arrested  here  by  the  question,  What  is  the  good 
heart?  Is  there  aught  in  the  natural  soil  of  the  human 
spirit  entitled  to  be  called  honest  or  good?  Is  there  any 
natural  aptitude  in  the  soul  of  man  for  receiving  the  seed  of 
the  kingdom  ? 

We  answer,  unhesitatingly,  None,  independent  of  the 
grace  of  God,  and  the  vivifying,  transforming,  regenerating 
power  of  His  Spirit.  "  The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the 
things  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  They  are  foolishness  unto  him ; 
neither  can  he  know  them,  for  they  are  spiritually  discerned/' 
The  preparation  of  the  heart  is  from  the  Lord.  "  The  soil  is 
made  receptive  by  a  granted  receptive  power/'  It  is  His 
rain  which  softens  the  hardened  path.  It  is  His  hammer 
which  splinters  the  rock  in  pieces.  It  is  His  ploughshare 
which  uproots  the  strangling  thorns,  and  converts  the  wilder- 
ness into  a  well-watered  garden. 

Moreover,  the  term  "good"  we  are  to  take  in  a  compara- 
tive and  qualified  sense.  Alas !  even  after  the  Spirit  of  God 
has  been  at  work,  and  the  heart  has  been  renewed,  how  much 
of  the  old  man  still  remains !  How  much  of  nature  still 

*  Luke  viii.  15. 

"  This  soil  presents  a  threefold  antithesis  to  th  ;  bad,  as  expressed  by  the  differ- 
ent Evangelists.  It  is,  1st,  soft,  i.  e.,  loose  on  the  surface ;  2d,  it  is  deep  —no  im- 
peding rock  beneath ;  and  3d,  it  is  pure — free  from  the  tare  seed  and  thorn  roots. 
The  pure 'and  good  heart,  then,  is  susceptib'e  for  receiving— solid  for  keeping — 
sincere  and  decided — self-denying — earnestly  persevering  in  letting  the  Divine  seed 
work  within  it,  by  that  power  which  ever  tends  towards  fruit." — Stier,  in  loco. 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  143 

mingles  with  better  purposes  !  "  What  wilt  thou  see  in  the 
Shulamite?  The  company  of  two  armies/'*  The  two  oppos- 
ing antagonist  forces  of  grace  and  corruption — the  thorn  still 
struggling  to  its  old  mastery,  and  the  power  of  God  alone 
keeping  it  down. 

There  are  two  special  characteristics  here  given  of  this 
good  heart : — 

I.  It  is  honest.  The  man  is  in  earnest,  when  he  seats 
himself  in  his  pew  and  listens  to  the  words  of  eternal  life. 
It  is  no  mere  pleasant  song  he  hears  to  beguile  the  passing 
hour.  It  is  the  great  question  of  questions — the  theme 
which  overshadows  his  whole  eternity,  and  makes  all 
things  here — his  business,  his  trade,  his  wealth,  his  family 
— look  little  indeed,  poor  trifles,  in  comparison  with  these 
peerless  realities ! 

Let  us  seek  to  be  in  earnest.-^  Earnestness  is  the  great 
secret  of  success  in  worldly  things.  A  man  with  no  great 
natural  gifts — not  above  mediocrity  in  intellect — if  his  soul 
be  set  upon  some  object  or  attainment,  evincing  earnestness, 
a  fixedness  of  purpose,  unity  of  action,  and  concentration  of 
thought — will  secure  the  golden  prize.  From  the  boy  mas- 
tering his  task,  to  the  hero  taking  a  city,  or  the  astronomer 
finding  his  planet,  a  dogged  earnestness  of  purpose  will 
eventually  lead  to  triumphant  results.  So  with  spiritual 
things. — "  This  ONE  thing  I  do/'  is  the  great  motto  and 
maxim  of  the  conquering  Christian.  Honestly  yield  your- 
selves up  to  this  heavenly  seed.  "  Keep  it/'  as  it  is  here 

*  Sol.  Song,  vi.  13. 

•>  See  tins  point,  and  indeed  the  whole  parable,  ably  illustrated,  in  "  Robert* 
non's  Sermons,"  first  series,  p.  32. 


MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

sail :  suffer  not  the  soiling  contacts  of  the  world  to  stifle  its 
growth,  but  seek  to  "  go  on  unto  perfection." 

A  second  characteristic  of  the  "good  heart"  here  mentioned 
is,  that  it  "  brings  forth  fruit  with  patience." 

It  is  not  sentimental  emotion — lively  frames,  excitable 
feelings — but  it  is  living  action,  abiding  permanent  principle. 
It  is  one  thing  to  feel — another  to  act.  A  touching  story  in 
a  newspaper-column — an  historical  incident  one  thousand 
years  old — a  spectacle  of  misery  or  want,  seen  in  walking 
along  the  streets — any  or  all  of  these  may  make  me  feel; 
but  it  is  another  thing  to  relieve  want,  to  prove  the  good  Sa- 
maritan, to  bind  up  the  wounds  of  the  sufferer,  and  fill  the 
mouths  of  the  perishing.  Unless  feeling  be  thus  expanded 
and  developed  into  action,  it  is  a  useless  thing.  A  man  can 
weep  over  a  romance,  who  never  gave  a  farthing  to  an 
orphan,  or  who  would  see  his  fellow  drowning  and  refuse  to 
help  him.  So  in  spiritual  things,  a  man  may  feel  the  truths 
of  God's  Word ; — the  story  of  Redeeming  love  may  fill  his 
eye  ; — he  may  listen  with  a  glowing  heart  to  denunciations  of 
selfishness,  to  pictures  of  the  beauties  of  holiness,  and  the 
happiness  of  doing  good — and  yet  it  may  all  evaporate  in 
mere  sentiment,  and  he  may  go  out  of  church  the  icicle  he 
entered  it,  thawed  for  the  moment  into  tears,  but  these  con- 
gealed and  frozen  again,  when  he  passes  from  the  region  of 
idealism  into  the  realities  of  life. 

Let  it  not  be  so  with  you.  Let  others  "  think"  religion, 
or  theorise  on  religion,  or  talk  about  religion,  be  it  yours  to 
live  religion.  It  is  not  creeds,  or  party,  or  churchmanship 
that  will  save  you.  All  the  dogmatic  theology  of  Christen- 
dom and  its  schools,  will  not  save  you.  A  dry,  orthodox 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  145 

creed,  or  confession  of  faith,  could  as  liUle  insure  the  salva- 
tion of  a  soul,  as  a  rule  in  Algebra,  or  a  problem  in  Mathe- 
matics. Bring  forth  fruit !  Be  holy — love  God !  Open  the 
drooping  leaves  of  your  renewed  natures  to  the  gladsome 
sunlight.  In  one  word  — "  Do  those  things  which  are 
pleasing  in  His  sight." 

This  is  the  want — the  crying  demand  of  our  age — a  living 
Christianity — Epistles  of  Christ  that  may  be  "  known  and 
read  of  all  men."  Presumptuous  scoffers  are  there,  who  would 
dare  to  allege  that  the  Bible  is  an  antiquated  book — that  its 
age  is  past  and  gone — that  it  was  well  enough  for  the  world 
or  the  Church  in  its  nonage — but  the  refinements  of  the 
present  era  demand  something  higher  and  better.  Vain 
dreamers !  Christians,  if  you  who  value  your  Bibles  and 
prize  their  priceless  worth,  know  that  something  better, 
something  nobler,  cannot  be  given ;  remember  too,  there  is 
one  volume  (not  a  substitute,  but  an  all  important  supple- 
ment), which  you  can  produce  to  silence  the  gainsayer — 
the  volume  of  your  Life ; — a  volume  read  by  worldly  and 
scoffing  eyes,  that  scorn  to  read  the  Word  of  God.  They 
can  contemn  God's  blessed  Revelation  as  an  effete  and  anti- 
quated story,  but  they  cannot  resist  the  mighty  eloquence  of 
a  pure,  holy,  Christ-like,  heavenly  walk  ! 

Scorning  the  base  compliances  of  the  world  ;  at  war  with  its 
selfishness ;  diffusing  a  kindly  glow  of  love,  and  charity,  and 
peace,  and  amiability  all  around  : — Yes,  here  is  Christianity  ! 
No  pulpit  figment — no  barren  theory — no  worn-out  dream 
of  an  age  long  gone  by ;  but  an  active,  living,  influential 
principle ;  a  life  hid  with  Christ  in  God ;  the  glorious,  im- 
perishable, indestructible  seed,  taking  root  in  heaven-born 

K 


146  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

natures,  and  bringing  forth  fruit  "  in  some  thirty,  in  some 
sixty,  and  in  some  an  hundred  fold  I" 

From  the  entire  Parable  let  us  gather  a  lesson  to  Ministers 
and  People — to  the  Sowers  and  the  Soil. 

The  SOWERS. — How  vast  their  responsibility !  God's  accre- 
dited Servants,  going  forth  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  bearing 
the  precious  seed — seeking  with  all  fidelity  to  keep  back 
nothing  of  the  Truth  of  God ; — to  lay  bare  all  heart  decep- 
tions— to  denounce  every  spurious  soil  which  mocks  the 
good  seed  and  imperils  eternity.  If  desirous  to  be  true 
to  our  great  mission,  woe  be  to  us  if  we  rest  satisfied 
with  any  man-made  religion ;  any  wretched  compromise 
of  hollow  profession ;  anything  short  of  aiming  at  the 
SALVATION  OF  SOULS.  One  soul  really  saved,  is  worth 
ten  thousand  merely  MORALISED  !  The  ambassadors  of 
Christ,  indeed,  may  not  scorn,  but  glory  in  the  title  of 
the  upholders  of  Virtue — the  stern  and  uncompromising 
denunciators  of  national  and  individual  immorality.  But 
at  the  same  time,  would  we  repudiate  the  idea  that  we 
are  but  Conservators  of  the  public  peace,  commissioned  to 
watch  the  floodgates  of  crime,  to  repress,  whether  in  its 
more  polished  or  debasing  forms,  hydra-headed  vice,  and 
to  enforce  the  claims  and  extol  the  happiness  of  virtue. 
This  would  be  a  poor  petty  instalment  of  the  great  debt  we 
are  commissioned  by  our  Heavenly  Master  to  discharge.  No  ! 
Our  work  is  the  sowing  of  Gospel  seed — the  free  proclama- 
tion of  a  free  Salvation, through  the  Blood  of  Jesus;  regenera- 
tion and  sanctification  through  the  Spirit  of  Jesus.  All  else 
will  be  inadequate  to  renew  a  man's  nature,  and  raise  his 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED.  147 

soul  from  the  HUBS  of  the  fall.  We  might  preach  to  the 
drunkard  for  ever  on  his  drunkenness,  or  to  the  thief  on  his 
purloining,  or  to  the  covetous  on  the  baseness  and  peril  of 
fostering  a  mammon-spirit : — We  might  possibly  make  them 
reformed  characters,  but  we  should  not  make  them  saved  men. 
Moreover,  being  a  mere  change  of  habit,  not  of  principle, 
we  coul '  have  no  security  for  its  permanency ;  it  would  be 
but  the  lopping  down  of  the  thorns  to  spring  again,  to  shoot 
aloft  their  stems  in  wilder  luxuriance  and  strength  than 
ever.  It  is  not  single  fruits  we  ask  to  be  manifested,  or 
single  thorns  we  wish  extirpated ;  for  "  if  any  man  be  in 
Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature"  He  has  new  motives,  new 
aims,  new  principles  of  action. 

Seek  for  the  promised  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  effect  a 
radical  change  in  your  hearts ;  that,  by  what  Dr  Chalmers 
happily  called  "  the  expulsive  power  of  a  new  affection," 
"  all  old  things  may  pass  away,  and  all  things  become  new." 
Thus  will  your  minds,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  be  prepared 
and  made  receptive  for  the  good  seed  of  the  word.  That 
word  is  "  quick  and  powerful/'  and  can  convert  into  a  path- 
way for  the  visits  of  Jesus,  what  was  once  as  a  hardened 
f  ootroad,  trodden  by  Satan  and  swept  by  his  legion  emissaries. 

Yes !  this  is  our  comfort  and  consolation,  that  the  word 
we  preach  is  not  the  word  of  Man,  but  the  word  of  God. 
It  is  altogether  independent  of  man.  However  weak  and 
unworthy  the  instrument,  it  is  God's  appointed  ordinance. 
Often,  when  in  conscious  weakness  and  feebleness,  we  utter 
its  wondrous  verities — when  at  times,  as  every  minister  of 
the  gospel  must  feel,  we  are  pressed  down  by  want  of  faith 
and  want  of  zeal,  our  work  dimmed  and  clouded  by  human 


148  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

sin  and  human  frailty  and  infirmity  ;  or,  what  is  equally  felt, 
often  when  inculcating  solemn  lessons  which  we  have  most 
urgent  need  ourselves  to  learn,  demanding  tears  of  contrition 
which  we  need  ourselves  first  to  weep — oh,  what  a  comfort 
to  fall  back  on  the  assurance  that  "  the  word  of  God  is  not 
bound!"  That  it  is  not  of  him  that  preacheth  or  him  that 
speaketh,  or  of  him  that  fieareth,  but  "  of  God  that  sheweth 
mercy." 

Often  it  is  a  coward  heart  that  sounds  the  trumpet  in 
battle, — stirring  the  courage  and  nerving  the  arm  of  thou- 
sands. The  Sun  in  yonder  heavens,  that  dispenses  light 
to  its  circling  planets,  is  said  itself  to  be  a  cold  and  frigid 
mass.  The  Sower  scattering  the  grains  from  his  side  may 
be  enfeebled  by  age  and  disease,  want  and  penury, — but  yet  the 
seed  thus  scattered  by  a  decrepit  hand  takes  root  in  the  thank- 
ful and  well-cultured  soil,  and  produces  food  for  hundreds. 

So,  thanks  be  to  God,  the  Church  of  Christ  is  independent 
of  the  mere  Instrument.  The  sound  of  salvation — the  light  of 
truth — the  seed  of  the  gospel — is  independent  of  us !  "  The 
excellency  and  the  power  are  altogether  of  God."  There  may 
be  no  Paul  to  plant,  no  Apollos  to  water,  but  He  is  able  from 
stammering  lips  and  feeble  tongues  to  "give  the  increase." 

And  if  there  be  a  word  to  the  Sotuer  there  is  also  a  word 
to  the  Soil.  Would  that  we  bore  in  mind  that  each  succes- 
sive sowing  increases  our  responsibility !  We  are  invested, 
so  to  speak,  each  Sabbath  with  a  new  talent.  On  account 
of  each  Sermon  we  hear,  we  have  incurred  new  obligations — 
we  have  heard  fresh  warnings — listened  to  fresh  entreaties. 
Oh!  in  the  great  diary  of  Heaven,  while  the  fact  of  our 
meeting  is  thus  inserted — "Behold  a  sower  went  forth  t& 


THE  SOWER  AND  THE  SEED,  149 

sow" — the  appended  entry  in  the  book  of  God,  regarding 
every  heart,  will  either  be  "This  day  SALVATION,"  or,  "This 
day  CONDEMNATION,  has  come  to  this  house/' 

Break  up  your  fallow  ground  !  God  does  not  in  the  text 
irremediably  give  up  and  surrender  the  three  worthless  soils. 
The  very  utterance  of  the  parable  seems  to  imply,  that  the 
most  hardened  ground  might  yet  become  soft,  and  the  niuss 
obdurate  reclaimed  ! 

But  see,  oh,  see  to  it,  that  you  are  not  self-deceived.  The 
startling  fact  in  this  parable,  that  out  of  four  diverse  soils 
ONE  only  was  sound  and  good,  ought  surely  to  lead  us  to 
deep  heart-searchings,  to  scrutinise  our  motives  and  charac- 
ter, and  ascertain  what,  on  the  Great  Day  of  reckoning,  would 
be  our  standing-place  before  God. 

Do  not  go  to  the  sanctuary  merely  to  listen  and  not  to  prac- 
tise;— to  hear  what  is  preached,  to  criticise  it,  or  laud  it,  or 
condemn  it ; — to  give  the  ear  and  the  lip  during  the  brief 
Sabbath  hour  to  God,  and  the  soul  during  the  week  to  the 
world.  A  few  passing  compunctions,  and  then  to  lapse  again 
into  sin — the  victim  of  a  deeper  ruin  than  before.  Ah !  my 
brother,  it  may  seem  a  small  matter  to  thee  now,  this  scorn- 
ing of  offered  mercy — this  cold  indifference  to  the  perils  and 
prospects  of  eternity.  You  may  afford  now  to  smile  at  these 
pleadings  as  idle  tales;  to  let  the  seed  lie  rejected  on  the 
hardened  footpath — the  footpath  once  softened,  it  may  be, 
by  a  father's  prayers  and  watered  by  a  mother's  tears.  But 
wait  till  you  come  to  stand  on  the  verge  of  the  awful  preci- 
pice,— about,  in  an  unexpected  moment,  to  take  the  final  leap 
into  a  neglected  eternity, — and  say,  at  what  value  will  you 
estimate  your  neglected  Sabbaths  THEN? 


tem  on  %  fab. 


Night  sinks  on  the  wave, 

Hollow  gusts  are  sighing, 
Sea  birds  to  their  cave 

Through  the  gloom  are  flying. 
Oh  !  should  storms  come  sweeping, 
Thou  in  heaven  unsleeping, 
O'er  Thy  children  vigil  keeping, 
Hear  Thou  and  save ! 

Stars  look  o'er  the  sea, 

Few  and  sad  and  shrouded ; 
Faith  our  light  must  be 

When  all  else  is  clouded. 
Thou  whose  voice  came  thrilling, 
Wind  and  billow  stilling, 
Speak  once  more  our  prayer  fulfilling — 
Power  dwells  with  Thee  J 

"  And  when  he  was  entered  into  a  ship,  his  disciples  followed  him.  And 
behold  there  arose  a  great  tempest  in  the  sea,  insomuch  that  the  ship  was 
covered  with  the  waves;  but  he  was  asteep.  And  his  disciples  camelch'm 
and  awoke  him,  saying,  Lord  save  us:  we  perish  !"—  MATT.  viii.  23-28;  MAKE 
iv.  35-41;  LUKE  viii.  22-25. 


151 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE. 

THIS  is  the  first  of  the  "  Memories  of  GENNESAEET"  which 
have  their  scenery  and  illustration  not  on  the  Shores  but  in 
the  Lake  itself.  Lessons  from  tho  lips  of  the  Great  Teacher 
are  now  read  to  us  amid  winds  and  waters. 

We  have  already,  indeed,  found  our  Blessed  Redeemer 
discoursing  from  the  deck  of  a  vessel  to  the  listening  mul- 
titudes, and,  in  the  miraculous  Draught,  claiming  as  the 
Lord  of  Nature,  dominion  over  the  Fish  of  the  sea.  But  He 
is  now  to  manifest  His  dominion  over  the  Sea  itself.  As  He 
has  already  asserted  Lordship  over  its  tenantry,  He  is  about 
to  claim  sovereignty  also  over  their  unstable  domain.  Who 
can  estimate  the  priceless  worth  of  that  handful  of  Voyagers, 
who,  in  the  dusky  evening  twilight,  push  off  from  the  West- 
ern Shore?  That  humble  fishing-boat  contains  the  Infant 
Church.  It  is  freighted  with  the  world's  Salvation!  These 
winds  and  waves  are  charged  with  sublime  moral  and  spi- 
ritual lessons  to  the  end  of  time.  As  we  hear  uttered  the 
mandate  which  chained  the  tempests  of  Tiberias,  and  laid  to 
sleep  its  waters,  we  can  take  up  the  words  of  the  Psalmist 
and  say,  with  a  nobler  than  their  primary  meaning,  "0  Loi'd 
God  of  Hosts  who  is  a  strong  Lord  like  itnto  thee  ?  Thou 
rulest  the  raging  of  the  sea  ;  when  tho  -waves  thereof  arise 
thou  stillest  them  !  " 

Let  us  seek  to  gather  from  this  interesting  incident  some 
of  those  lofty  lessons  it  is  fitted  and  designed  to  teach  us. 


152  MEMORIES  OJ?  Gi-NNESAiiET. 

It  speaks  emphatically  "  concerning  Christ;  and  his  Church," 
and  let  these  two  points  successively  engage  our  thoughts. 

The  Storm  on  the  Lake  speaks  CONCEKNING  CHRIST. 

(1.)  His  HUMANITY  is  here  strikingly  brought  before  us. 

That  same  forenoon  Jesus  had  spoken  the  Parable  of  the 
Sower ; — a  parable,  as  we  have  remarked,  probably  suggested 
by  seeing,  nigh  to  where  He  stood,  a  husbandman,  in  early 
spring,  casting  his  seed  into  the  upturned  furrow.  Evening 
had  now  come.  That  Sower  had  retired  to  his  home.  Al- 
ready may  he  have  been  stretched  on  his  couch  of  sleep, 
recruiting  his  weary  frame  after  the  toils  of  the  day.  So 
also  had  the  Heavenly  Sower!  None  more  needing  repose 
than  He  after  a  day  of  such  unremitting  labour ! 

But  where  is  His  home?  where  His  couch?  Out  amid  the 
chill  damps  of  the  evening,  a  boat  is  seen  gliding  along  the 
lake,  manned  by  a  few  fishermen.  They  speak  with  sup- 
pressed breath,  for  a  weary,  jaded  passenger,  wrapped  for 
warmth  in  a  coarse  fisherman's  coat,  lies  snatching  what  re- 
pose he  can  find  in  the  hinder  part  of  the  vessel.  Let  no 
harsh  voice  break  His  rest.  He  has,  during  that  livelong 
day,  been  scattering  the  seed  of  a  nobler  than  any  earthly 
harvest.  How  deep,  how  profound  are  His  slumbers !  The 
splash  of  the  oars — the  scream  of  the  birds  overhead — disturb 
Him  not.  Yet  rude  is  His  couch — hard  His  pillow.  They 
took  Him  into  the  boat,  (in  the  quaint  but  expressive  words  of 
St  Mark,)  "Even  as  He  was."  "  EVEN  AS  HE  WAS;" — all 
unref reshed  and  unpreparc  d  for  a  voyage.  The  evening  meal 
probably  untasted.  The  garments  needed  for  crossing  the 


THE  STOKM  ON  THE  LAKE.  ]  -3 

Lake  unprovided.  His  head,  as  the  word  in  the  original 
seems  to  imply,  rests  uneasily  on  the  rough  wooden  rail  at 
the  stern  of  the  boat.* 

It  is  a  touching  incident  in  the  life  of  the  great  Apostle,  when, 
"as  Paul  the  Aged/'  he  sent  a  message  to  Timothy  to  bring 
with  him  "the  cloak  he  left  at  Troas"  to  protect  his  shivering 
frame  from  the  cold  of  a  Eoman  dungeon.  But  what  was 
this  in  striking  pathos,  compared  to  the  scene  we  have  here  ? 
Paul's  Master  and  Lord — the  Being  of  all  Beings — GOD  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh — that  Adorable  human  form  within  which 
Deity  dwelt — laid  on  the  rough  planks  of  a  fishing- vessel ; 
— exhausted  nature  demanding  refreshment  and  rest ! 

We  have  read  of  hunted  and  outlawed  monarchs  seeking 
refuge  and  repose  in  forest  huts.  Tales  linger  in  our  own 
land  of  royal  adventurers  sleeping  soundly  and  gratefully  in 
the  chill  mountain  cave,  or  on  the  clay-floor  of  Highland 
shielings.  But  what  are  these? — poor  insignificant  nothings 
in  comparison  with  the  scene  before  us.  The  Lord  of  Glory 
— Immanuel,  God  with  us — out  on  the  bleak  sea ; — the  dusk 
of  approaching  night  for  His  curtains,  the  sky  for  His  canopy 
— stretched  like  a  helpless  babe  in  the  arms  of  sleep — lulled 
to  rest  by  the  music  of  oars  and  the  ripple  of  waters  ! 

The  scene  deepens  in  interest  as  the  Voyage  proceeds. 
When  they  left  the  shore,  the  sun  had  apparently  set  peace- 
fully over  the  Western  mountains — the  sky  was  unfretted 
with  a  cloud — the  sea  unruffled  with  waves.  But  suddenly 
one  of  those  squalls  or  gusts  so  often  experienced  in  inland 

*  Even  though  irpoa-KCfftaXaiov  may  signify  ordinarily  a  second  pillow  or 
cushion,  yet  the  article  in  Mark  iv.  38  seems  to  indicate  something  belonging  to 
the  ship  which  might  serve  as  a  cushion  or  support." — Slier' »  "Words  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,"  vol.  i.,  page  363. 


154  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

lakes  came  sweeping  down  the  opposite  mountain  gorge. 
The  gathering  clouds  answer  to  the  wail  of  the  hurricane. 
The  waves  beneath  lift  their  crested  forms,  and  the  rain* 
rushes  from  the  blackened  heavens.  So  violent,  indeed, 
docs  the  tempest  soon  become,  that,  from  the  wetting  spray 
dashing  over  the  boat,  and  the  torrents  from  above,  she  is 
fast  filling  with  water ; — "  The  waves  beat  into  the  ship  so 
that  it  was  now  full."  It  could,  indeed,  be  no  mimic  storm, 
no  ordinary  danger,  that  would  lead  the  fishermen-disciples, 
who  knew  the  sea  so  well  from  youth,  to  cower  in  terror  for 
their  safety  and  abandon  themselves  to  despair. 

And  ivhat  now  of  that  august  Sleeper  ?  Still  weary 
Humanity  asserts  its  need  of  repose.  The  wind  is  sighing 
and  sweeping  around.  The  rain  is  pouring  on  that  unpro- 
tected pillow.  Yet  still  He  slumbers!  The  wild  howling 
war  of  the  elements  awakes  Him  not!  And  unless  His  dis- 
ciples with  violent  hand  had  come  and  roused  Him,  -f-  these 
weary  eyes  would  have  slept  out  the  storm.  Even  that 
last  lurch  of  the  Vessel  which  had  led  the  faithless  mariners 
to  cry,  in  an  extremity  of  tremor  and  agitation,  ''Master, 
Master!" — even  this  had  not  disturbed  that  SLEEPING  MAN! 

Oh,  wondrous,  beauteous  testimony  to  the  perfect  Huma- 
nity of  Jesus.  I  say  PERFECT  Humanity;  for  many  there 
are,  who,  while  they  speak  of  Him  as  Man,  think  of  Him  at 
.the  same  time  as  something  far  beyond  their  sympathies 
and  feelings,  their  weaknesses  and  infirmities — a  sort  of 
half-Man,  half- Angel,  incapable  of  any  identity  of  experience 

*  The  accompaniment  of  rain  is  involved  in  the  original  word, 
t  All  the  three  Evangelists  speak  of  the  disciples  awaking  Him  before  they 
addressed  Him. 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE.  155 

with  them  :  His  life  a  mysterious  drama,  which  they  may  gaze 
upon  with  wonder,  but  which  to  them  is  invested  with  no  per- 
sonal interest.  Look  at  ihis  picture  on  the  Lake  of  Tiberias. 
On:  only  of  all  that  little  crew  was  prostrated  with  bodily 
exhaustion,  and  that  ONE  was  JESUS!  It  is  the  same  Pilgrim 
Saviour  who,  after  traversing  the  dusty  roads  of  Samaria, 
with  its  hot  summer  sun  blazing  overhead,  flung  Himself, 
weak  and  wayworn,  as  best  He  could,  on  a  well  by  the 
wayside,  and  asked  from  a  Samaritan  woman  a  cup  of 
cold  water.  It  is  the  same  lowly  Sufferer  who,  exhausted 
with  weariness  and  watchings — stripes  and  buffetings — fell 
powerless  under  the  cross  which  cruelty  compelled  Him  to 
bear;  or  who,  as  He  was  transfixed  on  it,  in  anguish  ex- 
claimed, "  /  thirst."  It  is  the  same  Divine  Sympathiser 
whose  breaking  heart  gave  vent  to  its  pangs,  in  audible 
sobs,  at  the  Graveyard  of  Bethany.  The  "Temple  of  His 
body"  was  mysterious  indeed — a  holy,  sinless,  unpolluted 
shrine.  But  though  separate  from  sinners,  it  was  not  sepa- 
rated from  human  infirmities.  Hunger,  thirst,  weakness, 
weariness,  suffering,  pain,  had  their  lodgment  there.  The 
motto  and  superscription  on  its  portico  ever  was,  "  Beliold 
THE  MAN/' 

Most  touchingly  do  we  read  this  truth  in  the  narrative 
before  us.  Ah!  when  I  wish  to  feel  certified  of  the  glorious, 
upholding,  gladdening  assurance,  that  Jesus  was  indeed  :'bone 
of  my  bone,  and  flesh  of  my  flesh;"  that  He  knows  my 
frame ;  that  He  remembers  I  am  dust ;  that  He  had  the  blood 
of  the  human  race  in  His  Veins,  and  the  sinless  infirmities 
of  the  human  race  in  His  Nature;  that  He  knows  the  very 
lassitude  and  languor  of  this  frail  body,  which  so  often 


156  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET 

crushes  aid  enfeebles  its  companion  spirit, — I  go  not  to 
hear  Angels  chanting  His  advent  in  the  lowly  Manger,  nor 
to  the  Magi  hastening,  under  their  guiding  star,  to  present 
offerings  at  the  feet  of  that  Infant  of  Bethlehem.  I  go  not 
even  to  the  home  of  earthly  friendship,  to  see  Him  ally  Him- 
self with  human  hearts.  I  rather  go  out  amid  the  bleak  and 
howling  winds  of  an  earthly  Lake.  I  see  there  the  Saviour 
who  died  for  me,  sunk  in  slumber  on  the  deck  of  a  vessel; — 
glad  of  rest,  as  the  humblest  son  of  earthly  toil ; — the  pros- 
tration of  an  overwrought  frame  refusing  to  be  roused  by 
nature's  loudest  accents,  and  requiring  the  hands  and  voice 
of  His  own  Disciples  to  unseal  His  weary  eyelids  I 

Again — while  a  Perfect  Humanity,  observe,  further,  it  was 
a  pure,  spotless  Humanity,  which  belonged  to  Jesus. 

That  peaceful  Slumberer  on  Gennesaret  is  the  type  of 
Innocence.  If  Jonah  outslept  his  storm,  it  was  because  his 
conscience  was  lulled  and  deadened.  He  had  defied  his  God ; 
and  Iiis  God  for  the  moment  had  so  left  the  Atheist  Prophet, 
that  the  tempest's  rage  fell  disregarded  on  his  soul.  But  a 
Greater,  a  Holier  than  Jonas,  is  here  !  No  moral  storm  ever 
swept  over  that  pure,  calm,  sinless  spirit.  No  unquiet, 
disturbing  vision  of  guilt,  now  flits  across  the  Sleeper's 
bosom.  On  the  other  side  of  the  lake  whither  He  was 
going,  a  demon-crowd  of  Devils  haunted  the  gorges  of 
Gadara.  According  to  some  writers  (as  having  in  their 
power  the  destructive  agencies  of  nature  by  reason  of  the  sin 
of  man),  they  may  have  been  riding  now  on  the  wings  of 
this  storm,  doing  their  best  to  avert  their  own  approaching 
discomfiture.  Think  of  their  bosoms  tortured  by  the  me- 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE.  157 

mory  of  a  guilty  past,  maddened  to  despair  by  the  prospect 
of  a  hopeless  future;  the  sport  of  tempests,  of  which  Gen- 
nesaret's  surface  was  then  a  feeble  type.  These  wicked  were 
like  that  "troubled  sea  which  cannot  rest/'  But  see  the 
Spotless  Lamb  of  God  ! — in  the  absence  of  all  human  com- 
forts, yet  with  the  calm  treasure  of  a  peaceful  conscience, 
He  sleeps  tranquilly,  as  the  cradled  infant  which  a  mother's 
gentle  lullaby  has  sung  to  rest  I 

But  (2.)  The  scene  we  are  now  considering  speaks  con- 
cerning the  Saviour's  DEITY. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  in  all  the  more  memorable  incidents 
of  our  Lord's  life,  whenever  His  lowliness  and  humiliation  are 
signally  manifested,  there  is  always  (or  generally),  in  conjunc- 
tion with  this,  some  august  exhibition  of  His  Godhead.  His 
Humanity  was  proclaimed  in  the  lowly  stable  of  His  birth ;  but 
in  that  same  hour  Angels  over  Bethlehem  sung  of  His  glory. 
His  Humiliation  was  touchingly  proclaimed  in  receiving  bap- 
tism (a  sinner's  rite)  at  a  sinner's  hand;  but  the  Heavens 
were  opened,  and  a  sublime  voice  from  "  the  Excellent  Glory" 
attested  His  Divinity.  Bethany's  tear-drops  spoke  of  the 
tenderness  of  His  Human  heart.  Bethany's  word  of  omnipo- 
tence, which  summoned  the  sheeted  dead  from  the  tomb, 
proclaimed  the  majesty  of  His  Godhead.  Calvary's  Cross 
shews  us  a  dying  man; — the  crown  of  thorns — the  gash  of 
the  spear — the  criminal's  torture — the  malefactor  associates 
— all  speak  of  the  depths  of  Humiliation.  But  a  blackened 
sun;  riven  rocks;  the  earth  trembling  to  support  its  Creator's 
cross  ;— were  nature's  glorious  testimonies  that  He  who  hung 
in  ignominy  on  that  tree  was  "  THE  MIGHTY  GOD." 


158  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

We  have  the  same  juxtaposition  of  lowliness  and  greatness 
in  this  scene  on  the  Lake  of  Galilee.  "  As  the  Son  of  Man," 
says  a  Writer,  "  He  slept ;  but  as  the  Son  of  God  in  Man, 
He  awakes  and  speaks.  For  Himself,  exhausted ;  for  others, 
Almighty."  He  opens  His  eyes  on  that  scene  of  nature's 
wildest  uproar,  and  sitting  unperturbed  in  the  midst  of  it, 
counsels  and  comforts  : — First,  as  a  great  Master  reproving 
His  disciples'  fears,  and  then  as  the  great  God  uttering  His 
"  Peace,  be  still/'  As  the  Lord  alike  over  the  atmosphere 
above,  and  the  waters  beneath,  He  addresses  each  separately. 
Looking  upward,  first  to  the  storm  raging  on  high,  "  He 
rebukes  the  wind,  saying  ' Peace!"3  Then  turning  to  the 
waves  below,  the  angry  trough  of  the  sea,  He  adds,  "Be 
still."  A  new  element  in  nature  thus  casts  a  trophy  at  His 
feet,  and  owns  Him  her  Lord  I 

We  have  already  witnessed,  on  the  shores  of  the  Lake,  His 
power  over  bodily  diseases.  We  have  seen  the  leper  cleansed 
by  His  touch.  The  centurion's  servant  healed  by  a  dis- 
tant message.  Now  would  He  shew  that  "  dragons,  and  all 
deeps,  fire  and  hail,  snow  and  vapour,  si  or  my  wind,"  are 
equally  ready  to  "  fulfil  His  word."  "  He  spake,  and  it  was 
done/'  There  are  no  laboured  means  required.  The  inter- 
vention of  no  rod,  as  in  the  case  of  Moses,  to  stretch  over  the 
deep.  From  the  fishing- vessel,  as  His  throne,  He  issued  His 
behest.  Every  wave  rocked  itself  to  rest.  The  winds  re- 
turned to  their  chambers.  The  lights  on  the  shore  were  once 
more  reflected  in  the  waveless  sea;—"  Immediately  there  was 
a  great  calm."  Well  might  the  disciples,  as  they  beheld  the 
power  of  that  marvellous  mandate,  exclaim,  in  the  words  of 
their  Psalmist  King,  as  they  crouched  adoring  at  their  Master'* 


THE  STOIIM  ON  THE  LAKE.  1-j'J 

feet,  "  The  sea  is  His,  and  lie  made  it ;  and  His  hands 
formed  the  dr?1  land.  Oh,  come  let  us  worship  and  bow 
down,  let  us  kneel  before  tJie  Lord  our  Maker!" 

While  we  exult  in  the  Humanity,  let  us  evermore  exult  in 
the  Deity  of  Christ.  Had  Deity  not  inhabited  the  bosom  of 
that  sleeping  Man,  the  disciples  must  have  had  a  yawning 
sepulchre  in  these  depths.  We  should  have  had  to  tell  this 
day  of  nothing  save  ruined  souls  and  a  sinking  world.  It 
was  Deity  which  impressed  an  untold  value  on  all  His  doing 
and  dying.  Take  away  the  great  key-stone  of  Christianity, 
— that  Godhead  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  Messiah, — and  our 
hopes  for  eternity  lie  buried  with  His  unrisen  Body  in  the 
Grave  at  Jerusalem.  But  "  His  name  is  Immanuel,  GOD  with 
us/'  While  we  look  up  to  heaven  and  see  a  MAN  upon  the 
throne,  we  can  at  the  same  time  exclaim,  "  Thy  Throne,  0 
GOD,  is  for  ever  and  ever!"  The  combination  of  the  two  iti 
the  one  person  of  the  Everliving  Eedeemer,  makes  Him  all 
we  need,  all  we  can  desire. 

It  is,  indeed,  in  His  glorified  Humanity  He  there  lives  and 
reigns.  He  needs  no  longer,  as  at  this  Eventide  Scene  on 
Gennesaret,  earthly  repose.  His  period  of  weakness,  His 
struggle  with  human  infirmity,  is  over.  We  need  not,  like 
the  disciples,  now  go  to  awake  Him ;  for  in  yonder  glorious 
Heaven  " He  fainteih  not,  neither  is  weary."  "He  that 
keepeth  Israel"  now  "neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps."  But 
His  heart  of  love  knows  no  change.  He  is  "  that  same  Jesus," 
our  God  yet  our  Brother,  our  Brother  yet  our  God  ! 

There  may  be  comfort  to  some  here  in  the  thought  (more 
especially  brought  before  us  in  this  passage  in  connexion  with 
Christ's  deity)  thai'  He  ruleth  over  winds  and  waves.  "  What 


ISO  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

manner  of  man/'  exclaimed  the  disciples,  "is  this,  for  even 
the  winds  and  the  sea  obey  Him.'"  No  storm  that  sweeps 
the  ocean  can  defy  His  power,  or  resist  His  control.  These 
boisterous  elements  are  His  ministers  and  messengers.  Not 
one  storm-cloud  can  gather — not  one  crested  wave  rise — not 
one  timber  can  start — without  His  permission,  who  "holdeth 
the  winds  in  His  fists."  All  power  is  committed  to  Him  in 
Heaven  and  on  Earth.  The  Prince  of  the  power  of  the  air, 
if  some  mysterious  dominion  be  there  assigned  Him,  has  a 
mightier  to  control  His  demon  rage  ;  and  whether  it  be  the 
atmosphere  that  comes  loaded  with  plague  and  fever,  pesti- 
lence and  cholera — or  the  hurricane  that  uproots  a  forest  and 
overturns  a  house,  burying  a  loved  child  in  the  ruins — or  the 
tornado  that  strews  the  bosom  of  the  ocean  with  the  pride 
of  navies,  or  sends  wailing  and  widowhood  into  the  fisher- 
man's lonely  dwelling — "  THE  LOED  sitteth  upon  the  floods ; 
yea,  the  Lord  sitteth  King  for  ever."  "  The  floods,  0  LORD, 
have  lifted  up,  the  floods  have  lifted  up  their  voice;  the 
floods  lift  up  their  waves.  But  THE  LORD  ON  HIGH  is 
mightier  than  the  noise  of  many  waters;  yea,  than  the 
mighty  waves  of  the  sea  !" 

But,  II.  The  text  speaks,  not  only  "concerning  Christ," 
but  "  CONCERNING  His  CHURCH."  This  both  in  its  collective 
and  in  its  individual  capacity. 

In  previously  considering  the  miraculous  draught,  we  found 
the  fishes  enclosed  in  the  net  were  designed  to  form  an 
instructive  pledge  and  symbol  to  the  "  Fishers  of  Men"  of  the 
success  of  their  labours.  If  the  Fish  were  thus  typical  of 
immortal  souls,  the  element  in  which  they  lived,  the  heaving, 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE.  161 

changing,  restless  water,  with  its  fitful  alternations  of  calm 
and  tempest,  was  surely  no  inappropriate  picture  of  human 
life,  swept  with  storms  and  strewed  with  wrecks.  And  if, 
as  we  believe,  each  portion  of  this  sacred  incident  is  fraught 
with  symbolic  instruction,  we  may  warrantably  look  also  for 
some  figurative  truth  in  that  tossed  vessel  with  its  affrighted 
crew.  Nor  is  there  much  difficulty  in  finding  its  true  place 
in  the  Sacred  Allegory.  If  the  Ark  of  Noah,  in  the  olden 
patriarchal  deluge,  was  not  only  a  befitting  type  of  the 
Church,  but  was  really  THE  Church  of  God,  tossed  on  that 
raging  flood,  have  we  not  in  this  Gennesaret  vessel  the  Gospel 
type  and  symbol  of  the  same — the  Church  in  the  world, 
and  yet  not  OF  the  world; — subject  to  the  storms  of  persecu- 
tion, often  hurried  into  guilty  fears  and  faithless  distrust 
and  misgiving; — yet  her  Lord,  not  (as  in  the  extremity  of 
her  unbelief  she  sometimes  supposes),  like  Baal,  slumbering 
and  sleeping,  but  seated  invisible  at  her  helm,  guiding  her 
through  the  roaring  surge,  and  enabling  her  to  ride  out  the 
tempest ! 

At  no  period  has  the  Church  been  exempt  from  such 
hurricanes.  Even  in  these  our  days  (though,  thank  God, 
the  outer  storm  is  hushed,  and  she  is  holding  on  her  way  in 
these  favoured  lands  through  calm  and  tranquil  seas),  there 
are  discerning  spirits  who  can  catch  up  distant  indistinct 
mutterings — presages  of  a  coming  tempest,  more  fearful  than 
any  she  has  yet  buffeted — "  the  sea  and  the  waves  roaring, 
and  men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear/'  If,  ere  the  Millenial 
morning  break,  there  is  thus  a  deeper  and  darker  night  of 
trial  in  reserve  for  the  Church  of  Christ; — Satan  and  his 
demon-throng,  riding  on  the  wings  of  persecution,  putting 

L 


162  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

forth  their  last  giant  effort  for  her  destruction, — be  it  ours  to 
exult  in  the  thought  that  there  is  a  Sleepless  PILOT  at  her 
helm,  who  can  say,  like  His  great  Apostle  in  Adria,  "  I  ex- 
hort you  to  be  of  good  cheer."  "  GOD  is  in  the  midst  of  her : 
she  shall  not  be  moved :  THE  LORD  shall  help  her,  and  that 
right  early." 

(2.)  This  passage  speaks  concerning  the  Church  in  hei 
individual  capacity. 

It  speaks  of  Disciple  life  and  Disciple  experience.  It  is 
easy  for  us  to  speak  and  theorise  about  Faith,  but  God  often 
casts  us  into  the  crucible  to  try  our  gold,  and  separate  it 
from  the  dross  and  alloy.  He  brings  us  into  the  vortex  of 
the  storm  to  see  whether  we  shall  wring  our  hands  in  faith- 
less despair  or  rush  to  our  Master.  The  disciples  in  Genne- 
saret  had  acted  unfaithfully — unconfidingly.  They  might 
have  known  that,  though  the  wail  and  death-shriek  of  perish- 
ing crews  had  been  heard  all  around,  one  bark  at  least  would 
have  defied  the  rush  of  waters  and  roar  of  winds.  With 
JESUS  in  their  midst,  they  need  have  feared  no  evil.  The 
simple  fact  of  His  presence  ought  to  have  been  pledge  and 
guarantee  enough  that  their  safety  was  secured.  If  some 
more  craven  spirit  than  the  rest  had  urged  His  being  roused, 
— some  impetuous  Peter,  in  his  eager  impulsive  haste,  had 
hurried  to  the  stern  to  utter  his  unbelieving  fears — we  should 
have  expected  some  one  of  the  others  of  calmer  mould  and 
stronger  faith,  some  John  or  James,  to  have  arrested  the 
intruder,  saying,  "  Disturb  Him  not ! "  Sooner  shall  these 
mountains  that  gird  the  lake  be  removed  than  He  suffer  "  one 
of  His  little  ones  to  perish."  Let  us  gaze  in  calm  serenity 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE. 

on  the  face  of  the  Almighty  Sleeper.  Let  us  "  be  still  and 
know  that  He  is  GOD!" 

But,  alas!  for  the  moment  they  seem  all  to  have  been 
involved  in  the  same  unworthy  perturbation  —  "Master, 
Master  !  carest  Thou  not  that  we  perish?" 

We  cannot,  we  dare  not,  to  a  certain  extent,  wonder  at 
their  fear.  So  far  it  was  natural.  There  was  much  to 
awaken  apprehension.  Their  ship  reeling  on  the  waves,  and 
their  Lord  appearing  unconscious  of  their  danger  "  asleep  on 
a  pillow."  It  was  the  excess  of  their  terror  which  drew 
forth  the  rebuke.  Each  Evangelist  in  recording  it  gives  a 
slight  variation.  One  says,  "  Ye  have  little  faith ;"  another, 
"  Where  is  your  faith?"  a  third,  "Ye  have  no  faith."  But 
in  all  the  three  cases  it  is  the  lack  of  FAITH  which  is  blamed  ; 
the  want  of  that  principle  which  "casts  out /ear."  We  may 
wonder,  perhaps,  at  the  severity  of  the  condemnation.  Was 
Faith  on  their  part  really  so  utterly  wanting  ?  Did  not  rather 
their  very  rushing  to  their  sleeping  Lord  seem  to  indicate 
the  intensity  of  their  trust  in  that  perilous  crisis-hour? 
They  felt  that  if  they  are  to  be  rescued  at  all  from  a  dreadful 
grave,  it  can  be  by  Him  alone.  Yet,  observe,  He  rebukes 
them,  as  if  their  Faith  were  poor,  trifling,  unworthy  of  the 
name ! 

How  is  this  ? — It  is  plain  that  His  condemnation  of  it  is 
relative.  It  is  judged  by  a  standard  of  its  own.  Had  some 
of  the  multitude  (not  the  disciples)  manned  this  vessel,  and 
rushed  thus  imploringly  in  the  tempest  to  awake  Him,  pro- 
bably, as  in  the  case  of  the  Gentile  Centurion,  Jesus  would 
have  commended  their  faith  as  great.  But  these  misgiving 
ones  were  those  who  sli  Duld  have  known  better  than  to  dis- 


]  64  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

trust  for  one  moment  His  ability  and  willingness  to  save. 
Had  they  witnessed  to  so  little  purpose  His  recent  miracles  ? 
Had  they  heard  with  so  little  profit  His  recent  Discourse  of 
heavenly  wisdom  ?  Unkind  and  cruel  surely  in  the  extreme, 
in  the  case  of  trusted  friends,  was  the  cry  with  which  they 
roused  Him,  "CAREST  Thou  not  that  we  perish?"  Any- 
thing to  that  beneficent  Being  would  have  been  less  cutting 
and  wounding  than  this — "CAREST  Thou  not!"  It  was 
doubting  not  His  power  but  His  Love,  that  love  to  which 
every  hour  since  they  knew  Him  had  borne  testimony. 

How  kindly,  gently,  considerately,  yet  faithfully,  He  deals 
with  them !  He  utters  no  reproach  for  that  rude  awaking, — 
robbing  Him  of  the  slumber  He  so  greatly  needed,  and 
which  His  untiring  energy  elsewhere  denied  Him.  But, 
gazing  with  earnestness  upon  them,  He  puts  the  penetrating 
question,  which  must  have  gone  like  an  arrow  to  their  hearts, 
"  Why  are  ye  so  fearful  ?  "  He  speaks  as  a  faithful  Master  to 
His  faithless  disciples  before  He  turns  to  speak  to  the  ele- 
ments. The  winds  and  waves  He  allows  to  revel  at  will 
before  He  has  delivered  in  the  hearing  of  the  Voyagers  the 
word  of  needed  reproof.  He  has  no  ear  for  the  warring 
elements,  until,  in  mingled  severity  and  kindness,  He  has 
poured  oil  on  the  troubled  sea  of  these  vexed  hearts. 

Are  any  of  us  thus  fearful?  Jesus  turns  to  us  and  says 
"  Wilt  thou  not  trust  Me  ?  Look  at  Calvary's  Cross !  Is  that 
not  a  pledge  and  guarantee  that  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor 
forsake  thee?  For  a  small  moment  I  may  appear  to  have 
forsaken  thee,  but  with  great  mercies  will  I  gather  thee — 
with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  mercy  upon  thee  ! " 

Let  this  be  with  us,  as  with  the  disciples,  the  result  of  all 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE.  165 

these  storms  of  Trial — to  drive  us  nearer  our  Heavenly  Master, 
and  endear  Him  to  our  souls.  They  wondered  at  the  mo- 
ment, doubtless,  what  could  be  the  cause  of  such  a  storm. 
Why  not  have  arrested  it  or  kept  it  chained  in  its  mountain 
hold,  till  that  bark  with  its  valued  crew  got  safe  to  land? 

Thus  they  may  have  reasoned  while  the  tempest  was  over- 
head, and  their  hearts  failed  them  for  fear.  But  what  was 
their  verdict  when  they  were  planting  their  anchor  in  the 
white  shingle  on  the  Gadara  shore.  They  said  one  to  an- 
other, "  What  manner  of  man  is  this,  that  even  the  winds 
and  the  sea  obey  him  ?  "  Their  Lord  rose  higher  than  ever 
in  their  estimation.  In  the  future  manifold  sacred  memo- 
ries of  that  wondrous  ministry,  how  the  combined  remem- 
brance of  the  weary  MAN  and  the  Almighty  GOD  would 
brace  them  for  their  great  fight  of  afflictions!  That  "PEACE, 
BE  STILL/'  has  been  a  motto  and  watchword  which  these 
howling  winds  of  Gcnnesaret  have  wafted  from  age  to  age 
and  from  clime  to  clime,  sustaining  faith  in  sinking  hearts, 
and  producing  in  many  a  storm-swept  bosom  a  "GREAT 
CALM!" 

Oh,  happy  for  us  if  all  the  hurricanes  that  ruffle  life's  un- 
quiet sea  have  the  effect  of  making  Jesus  more  precious.  If 
God  has  to  employ  stormy  trials,  severe  afflictions,  for  this 
end,  let  us  not  quarrel  with  His  wise  ordination.  Better  the 
storm  with  Christ  than  the  smooth  water  without  Him — 

"  Far  more  the  treach'rous  calm  I  dread 
Than  tempests  bursting  overhead." 

It  is  the  experience,  not  of  the  luxurious  Barrack,  but  of  the 
tented  field,  the  trench  and  night-watch,  which  makes  the 
better  and  hardier  soldier.  It  is  not  the  exotic  nursed  in 


166  MEM01UES  OF  GEXNESABET. 

glass  and  artificial  heat  which  is  the  type  of  strength;  but 
the  plant  struggling  for  existence  on  bleak  cliffs,  or  the  pine 
battling  with  Alpine  gusts,  or  shivering  amid  Alpine  snows. 
If  there  be  a  sight  in  the  spiritual  world  more  glorious  than 
another,  it  is  when  one  sees  (as  may  often  be  seen,)  a  Be- 
liever growing  in  strength  and  trust  in  God,  by  reason  of  his 
very  trials; — battered  down  by  storm  and  hail,  a  great 
fight  of  afflictions — enduring  loss  of  substance — loss  of 
health — loss  of  friends — yet,  standing  by  emptied  coffers  and 
full  graves,  and  with  an  aching  but  resigned  heart,  enabled  to 
say  ''Heart  and  flesh  do  faint  and  fail  but  God  is  the 
s'renyth  of  nnj  heart  and  my  portion  for  ever  I" 

Never  let  us  take  our  trials  as  an  indication  that  God  is 
not  with  us  ;  saying,  like  Martha,  in  our  blind  unbelief, 
'•Lord,  if  Thou  liadst  been  here,  this  never  would  have 
happened.  The  Saviour  cannot  have  been  at  my  side,  else 
this  desolating  storm  would  never  have  swept  over  me." 
Nay,  He  u 'as  with  the  disciples — sleeping  in  their  very  boat — 
when  the  Gennesaret  hurricane  descended.  "  BEHOLD/'  says 
the  Evangelist  (as  if  arresting  our  attention  to  the  fact), 
"BEHOLD"  (when  He  is  voyaging  with  His  own  apostles) 
"  there  arose  a  great  tempest."*  And  often  is  it  so  still.  He 
selects  the  blackest  cloud,  and  causes  His  people  to  pass 
through  it,  that  He  may  span  it  with  His  Rainbow  of  mercy, 
and  shew  in  blended  colours,  His  power,  and  faithfulness,  and 
love! 

And  what  remains,  but  to  urge  you  to  flee  to  that  same 
adorable  Saviour,  and  to  cast  all  your  cares  on  Him  who 
*  Matt.  viii.  24. 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  LAKE.  ]  67 

has  shewn  you,  at  such  a  cost,  how  He  careth  for  you.  Ye 
who  are  in  perplexity  temptation,  trial, — environed  with 
storms  of  unbelief  and  doubt  and  inward  corruption, — go 
to  your  Lord  as  the  disciples  did.  They  give  you  a  new 
testimony  to  the  poiver  of  Prayer.  It  was  Prayer  that 
roused  their  Divine  Master.  He  continued  asleep  till  His 
disciples  awoke  Him.  And  the  great  principle  in  the  dis- 
pensation of  His  spiritual  gifts  still  is,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall 
receive"  How  beautifully  is  here  brought  out  His  willing- 
ness to  hear  the  cries  of  His  perishing  people  !  All  the  roar 
of  elemental  war — the  voice  of  wind,  and  rain,  and  moun- 
tain waves — awakes  Him  not;  but  the  cries  and  entreaties 
of  His  people,  at  once  reach  His  ear  I 

Let  us,  then,  arise  and  call  upon  our  God.  The  great  lesson 
taught  both  to  the  Disciples  and  to  us  in  this  storm,  is,  that 
in  nearness  to  Jesus  lies  all  our  safety.  Weak  faith,  and 
Little  faith,  as  well  as  Great  faith,  are  encouraged  to  rush 
to  this  Great  Deliverer.  The  world  is  at  best  a  treacherous 
sea.  Its  Painted  Barks  may  hold  on  for  a  while  their  uncer- 
tain course,  spreading  their  white  wings  before  summer  gales 
and  favouring  breezes.  But  a  sudden  hurricane  comes  ;  the 
waters  are  strewed  with  their  wrecks,  and  "  the  place  which 
once  knew  them  knows  them  no  more!"  But,  safe  in  the 
Ark  of  God,  steered  by  the  Heavenly  Pilot,  we  are  as  secure 
as  combined  omnipotence  and  love  can  make  us.  And  when 
earthly  storms  are  all  over,  every  crested  wave  of  a  chequered 
past  will  only  endear  to  us  more  the  Haven  of  rest,  where 
the  tempest's  voice  will  be  ntver  more  either  felt  or  feared  1 


XL 


They  know  th'  Almighty's  power, 

Who,  waken'd  by  the  rushing  midnight  shower, 
Watch  for  the  fitful  breeze 

To  howl  and  chafe  amid  the  bending  trees- 
Watch  for  the  still  white  gleam 

To  bathe  the  landscape  in  a  fiery  stream, 

Touching  the  tremulous  eye  with  sense  of  light 
Too  rapid  and  too  pure  for  all  but  angel  sight. 

They  know  th'  Almighty's  love, 
Who,  when  the  whirlwinds  rock  the  topmost  grove, 

Stand  in  the  shade,  and  hear 
The  tumult  with  a  deep  exulting  fear  ; 

How,  in  their  fiercest  sway, 
Curb'd  by  some  power  unseen  they  die  away — 
Like  a  bold  steed  that  owns  his  rider's  arm, 
Proud  to  be  check'd  and  sooth'd  by  that  o'ermastering  charm. 

But  there  are  storms  within 
That  heave  the  struggling  heart  with  wilder  din, 

And  there  is  power  and  love 
The  Maniac's  rushing  frenzy  to  reprove  ; 

And  when  he  takes  his  seat, 
Clothed  and  in  calmness  at  his  Saviour's  feet, 
Is  not  the  power  as  strange— the  love  as  blest, 
As  when  He  said,  Be  still,  and  ocean  sank  to  rest  1 

"  And  they  came  over  unto  the  other  side  of  the  sea,  into  the  country  of  the 
Gadarenes.  And  when  He  was  come  out  of  the  ship,  immec! lately  there  met  him 
out  of  the  tombs  a  man  with  an  unclean  spirit,  who  had  his  dwelling  among  the 
tombs;  and  no  man  could  bind  him,  no,  not  with  chains." — MATT.  viii.  28-34; 
MARK  v.  1-20 ;  LUKE  viii.  26-40. 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED. 

WE  now  follow  our  Lord's  footsteps,  for  the  first  time,  to  the 
eastern  shores  of  GENNESARET.  Striking  must  have  been  the 
contrast  between  their  sterile  aspect  and  the  cultivated  beauty 
with  which  we  have  hitherto  been  familiar  around  Capernaum. 
Hills,  with  a  few  patches  of  cultivation,  rose  slanting  from 
the  water's  edge,  unrefreshed  by  those  rills  and  water-courses 
which  formed  nature's  contribution  to  the  life  of  the  western 
side.  If  we  add  to  an  ungenial  climate  and  the  absence  of 
soil,  exposure,  as  at  this  day,  to  the  incursion  of  the  ad- 
joining desert  hordes,  we  find  an  additional  reason  for  the 
comparatively  scanty  inhabitants  —  the  near  and  strange 
proximity  of  intense  activity  to  desolation  and  barrenness.* 
It  was  a  border  ]an  1  "  of  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death," 
abandoned  to  a  mixed  population  of  Jew  and  Gentile ;  ani- 
mals clean  and  unclean — the  sheep  of  the  Hebrews,  the  swine 
of  the  Gentiles — browsing  on  contiguous  pastures.  No  rich 
plain  or  undulating  slopes  fringed,  as  on  the  opposite  shore, 
the  margin  of  the  lake,  on  which  "the  sower"  could  "go  forth 
to  sow/'  If  that  memorable  parable  were  suggested  by  an  in- 
cident seen  in  the  fields  of  the  one  side,  the  parable  of  the 
lost  sheep,-(-  roaming  through  a  trackless  waste,  had  its  ap- 
propriate scenery  on  the  other.  These  Eastern  wilds  formed 

*  For  a  description  of  the  eastern  side  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  see  Lord  Lind- 
say's Travels,  Burkhardt,  and  Stanley's  Sinai  and  Palestine,  passim. 

t  The  preceding  references  in  the  history  connect  it  with  Galilee.  Stanley,  in 
loco. 


170  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEEP. 

"the  desert  place,"  to  which  Christ,  on  other  occasions,  in- 
vited the  disciples  to  "go  and  rest  awhile/'  The  very  soli- 
tude of  this  wilderness  was  a  pleasing  refuge  to  Him  from 
unceasing  labour.  There,  amid  nature's  ragged  temples  and 
oratories,  her  Great  Maker  and  Lord  "ofttimes  resorted/''  for 
purposes  of  meditation  en.. I  prayer. 

Such  is  the  befitting  frame  for  that  terrible  picture  which 
we  are  now  to  contemplate ;  a  theme  uninviting  in  itself, 
and  encompassed  with  not  a  few  difficulties — but  which, 
occurring,  as  it  does,  in  the  order  of  the  narrative,  we  dare 
not  pass  in  silence. 

The  description  of  the  Gadarene  Demoniac  is  given  by  the 
first  three  Evangelists.  We  shall  avail  ourselves  of  the  notices 
peculiar  to  each,  taking  as  the  ground-work  that  of  St  Mark, 
which  is  distinguished  (as  most  of  his  other  narrations  are) 
for  minuteness  and  fidelity  in  all  its  parts.  His  is  evidently 
the  narrative  of  an  eye-witness;  and,  connected  in  some  way, 
as  we  have  good  reason  to  believe  the  writing  of  his  Gospel 
was,  with  St  Peter, — the  Evangelist  and  the  Apostle-spec- 
tator, in  compiling  their  inspired  narratives,  have  retained, 
with  graphic  power,  each  feature  of  the  thrilling  incident. 

Let  us  look  first  to  THE  PICTURE  itself,  and  then  examine 
its  DETAILS.  In  other  words,  let  us  describe  the  general 
SCENE,  and  afterwards,  from  its  several  parts,  deduce  some 
general  LESSONS. 

Recent  travellers  inform  us  that  opposite  the  town  of  Tibe- 
rias, on  the  eastern  shore,  a  recess  is  formed  in  the  moun- 
tains, where  there  are  still  the  remains  of  a  Jewish  burying- 
ground.  Caves,  either  natural  or  artificial,  are  hollowed  out 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  171 

of  the  rock,  while  the  ruins  of  a  city  crown  the  heights  at  the 
top  of  the  valley.*  There  is  a  strong  presumption  in  favour 
of  this  being  the  locality  of  the  scene  presented  to  us  in  the 
passage  we  are  now  considering. 

In  our  last  chapter,  we  found  the  Lord  and  His  Apostles 
suddenly  overtaken  by  a  storm  in  the  midst  of  the  Lake — no 
ordinary  storm,  as  the  narrative  infers, — but  one  which  led 
the  disciple  fishermen,  who  knew  these  waters  so  well,  to 
cower  in  terror  at  their  Master's  feet. 

But  what  is  this  to  the  moral  hurricane  which  sweeps 
down  upon  them  the  moment  their  anchor  is  planted  on  the 
eastern  beach  ? 

Out  of  one  of  these  rocky  tombs  or  sepulchres,  a  Being  in 
Human  shape,  rushes  with  fleet  foot  down  the  intervening 

*  "  The  particulars  are  such  as  specially  suit  one  spot  only  on  the  eastern  side 
— the  central  ravine  of  the  Wady  Fik,  nearly  opposite  Tiberias.  The  '  tombs,' 
ftvm  which  the  demoniac  issued  the  moment  that  he  saw  the  boat  touch  the 
shore,  would  be  those  hewn  in  the  rock  on  the  approach  to  the  ancient  city, 
whether  of  Gramala  or  Hippos,  which  still  crowns  a  height  at  the  top  of  the 
ravine." — Stanley,  p.  376. 

The  following  is  Josephus'  description  of  Gramala  (J.  B.  iv.  1, 1),  in  his  account 
of  the  terrible  carnage  around  its  walls  during  the  wars  of  Vespasian  : — 

"  It  was  situated  upon  a  rough  ridge  of  a  high  mountain,  with  a  kind  of  neck 
in  the  middle.  Where  it  begins  to  ascend  it  lengthens  itself,  and  declines  as 
much  downward  before  as  behind,  insomuch  that  it  is  like  a  camel  in  figure, 
from  whence  it  is  so  named,  although  the  people  of  the  country  do  not  describe 
it  accurately.  Both  on  the  side  and  the  face  there  are  abrupt  parts,  divided 
from  the  rest,  and  ending  in  vast  deep  valleys  ;  yet  are  the  parts  behind,  where 
they  are  joined  to  the  mountain,  somewhat  easier  of  ascent  thin  the  other  ;  but 
then  the  people  of  the  place  have  cut  an  oblique  ditch  there,  and  made  that  hard 
to  be  ascended  also.  On  its  acclivity,  which  is  straight,  houses  are  built,,  and 
those  very  thick  and  close  to  one  another.  The  city  also  hangs  so  strangely,  that 
it  looks  as  if  it  would  fall  down  itself,  so  sharp  is  it  at  the  top.  It  is  exposed  to 
the  south,  and  its  southern  mount,  which  reaches  to  an  immense  height,  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  citadel  to  the  city  ;  and  above  that  was  a  precipice,  not  walled 
about,  but  extending  itself  to  an  immense  depth.  There  was  also  a  spring  of 
water  within  the  wall,  at  the  utmost  limits  of  the  city." 


Of  TUB 

OTIT1BSX"* 


172  MEM  OKIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

slope,  with  wild  gestures  and  cries.  Mournful  was  his  his- 
tory! He  is  no  madman  or  maniac  bereft  of  reason,  the  vic- 
tim of  a  disordered  fancy  or  bewildered  imagination — a  deeper 
and  darker  woe  broods  over  him. 

One  of  the  spirits  from  "the  abyss" — an  infernal  demon, 
or  rather  a  whole  legion  of  them — bad  taken  possession  of 
that  wretched  body,  and  set  it  on  fire  of  hell !  It  is  alto- 
gether a  misconception  to  give  to  this  passage  a  mere  figura- 
tive rendering — to  resolve  this  Demoniac's  case  into  a  mere 
affliction  of  insanity,  a  disorganisation  of  the  brain.  Some 
would  do  so  to  evade  the  difficulties  of  the  question.  But 
by  thus  rejecting  the  express  declaration  of  Scripture,  they 
only  escape  one  perplexity  to  involve  themselves  in  another. 
If  Demoniacal  possession  had  been  a  mere  crude  fancy  of  the 
Jews — a  popular  delusion — can  we  for  a  moment  entertain 
the  idea,  that  He  who  came  on  earth  to  bear  witness  to  TRUTH 
would  have  fostered  among  his  disciples  or  their  countrymen 
belief  in  a  superstitious  lie  ? — that  He  would  have  misnamed 
mere  aberration  of  the  intellect,  by  calling  it  the  possession  of 
a  devil?*  No,  we  only  do  honour  alike  to  Christ  and  to  His 
Sacred  Word  when  we  accept,  in  the  fullest  sense,  its  literal 
averments,  though  they  may  do  violence  at  times  to  our  feel- 
ings, and  cross  our  carnal  reason. 

We  know  that  often  and  again,  in  the  course  of  His  minis- 
try, the  Saviour  makes  special  allusion  to  the  personality  and 
presence  of  Evil  Spirits.  In  exorcising  these,  He  addresses 
personal  agents.  He  speaks  to  an  individual,  not  to  a  dis- 
ease, "  Hold  THY  peace  and  come  out  of  him  !" 

At  the  period  of  the  advent  of  the  Prince  of  Light,  there 
*  See  this  ably  put  by  Mr  Trench. 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  173 

seems  to  have  been  an  especial  forthputting  of  the  might  of 
the  Prince  of  Darkness.  The  "  Strong  man  armed  "  was  in- 
vaded in  his  territory  by  the  "  Stronger  than  he/'  Till  now 
his  subordinate  ministers  sat  unchallenged  on  their  vice-regal 
thrones;  the  blinded  nations  bowed  before  them  in  abject 
fealty.  But  his  kingdom  is  doomed.  "  For  this  purpose  the 
Son  of  God  was  manifested,  that  He  might  destroy  the  works 
of  the  devil." 

Will  his  empire  be  resigned  without  a  struggle  ?  Nay ! 
His  confederate  legions  are  gathered  especially  in  and  around 
the  land  of  Judea.  Every  shaft  is  taken  from  his  armoury, 
to  avert,  if  possible,  the  signal,  impending  ruin. 

In  that  very  Storm  on  the  Sea,  there  may  (as  we  surmised) 
have  been  demon-spirits  giving  strength  to  the  hurricane, — 
mustering  in  diabolic  rage  the  destructive  forces  of  nature, 
under  some  mad  delusion  that  they  might  possibly  effect  the 
ruin  of  the  Voyagers,  and  thus  prevent  the  discomfiture  they 
seem  to  have  known  too  well  was  at  hand. 

Terrible  seems  to  have  been  the  subjection  of  the  miserable 
Being  now  before  us,  who  was  led  captive  by  their  will !  They 
had  driven  him  into  "  solitary  places/'  Perhaps,  under  the 
bitter  consciousness  of  the  demon  power  within  him,  he  had 
himself  sought  the  deepest  solitudes  of  nature,  to  be  screened 
there  from  his  more  favoured  fellows.  Moreover,  as  if  solitude 
intense  enough  could  not  be  found  amid  these  desert  hills,  the 
misanthrope  had  made  his  home  "amid  the  tombs/'  places 
which,  from  his  happier  infancy,  he  had  been  taught  to  regard 
as  "  unclean,"  and  to  rush  from  their  unhallowed  contact 

There  he  is  ! — "  the  living  among  the  dead  " — half  envying 
the  ghastly  repose  of  the  crumbling  bones  and  skeletons  that 


174  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

strewed  the  caves  where  he  dwelt !  A  supernatural  muscular 
Strength  had  been  imparted  to  him.  Again  and  again  had 
the  neighbouring  Gadarenes,  for  their  own  protection  and 
safety,  attempted  to  curb  his  fury,  binding  him  with  iron 
chains  and  "fetters  ;"  *  but  these  he  had  broken  like  withs — 
snapped  as  tow.  In  frantic  delirium  he  roamed  the  adjoin- 
ing mountains,  while,  in  his  wilder  paroxysms,  he  was  "driven 
by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness" — the  bleak,  flat  desert  which 
stretched  far  away  from  the  hills  that  girdled  the  Lake. 

Under  perhaps  a  consciousness  of  deep  guilt  as  the  cause 
of  his  misery,  the  narrative  further  describes  him  as  the  Vic- 
tim of  self-torture, — "crying  and  cutting  himself  with  stones/' 
They  had  attempted  to  clothe  him,  but  in  his  demon  rage 
every  rag  of  raiment  had  been  torn  from  his  bleeding,  lace- 
rated body.  A  highway  seems  to  have  led  from  the  town  to 
the  shore,  but  "  no  one  now  could  pass  that  way/'  Travel- 
lers avoided  the  haunted  approach.  He  was  the  terror  of 
the  neighbourhood ;  not  by  day  only  but  at  night  too,  when 
all  around  was  silent  and  still,  the  piteous  wailings  of  the 
demoniac  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  mountains  and  startled 
the  fishermen  in  their  lonely  night-watch  on  the  sea  !  -f- 

And  yet,  by  carefully  attending  to  the  narrative,  you  will 
observe  that  there  is  in  that  tempest-tossed  spirit  a  strange 

*  "  For  the  feet."— Olshausen,  274. 

*t*  The  following  description,  from  Warburton's  "  Crescent  and  the  Cross," 
quoted  by  Trench  and  others,  affords  a  singular  illustration  of  the  Gospel  narra- 
tive:— "  On  descending  from  these  heights  (Lebanon),  I  found  myself  in  a  ceme- 
tery, whose  sculptured  turbans  shewed  me  that  the  neighbouring  village  was  Mos- 
lem. The  silence  of  the  night  was  now  broken  by  fierce  yells  and  howlings,  which 
I  discovered  proceeded  from,  a  naked  maniac,  who  was  fighting  with  some  wild 
dogs  for  a  bone.  The  moment  he  perceived  me  he  left  his  canine  comrades,  and, 
bounding  along  with  rapid  strides,  seized  my  horse's  bridle,  and  almost  forced 
him  backward  over  the  cliff  by  the  gripe  he  held  of  the  powerful  Mameluke  bit* 


THE  SPOILEK  SPOILED.  i?-7 

mysterious  blending  of  human  consciousness  and  fiendish 
hate — an  interweaving  of  truth  and  error — a  confounding 
of  his  own  personality  with  that  of  the  devils.  His  own 
nature  is  crushed  to  the  dust  by  some  savage  tormentor  lord- 
ing it  over  him  ;  yet  the  overmastered  soul  (the  nobler  being 
of  the  man)  seems  ever  and  anon  to  rise  to  the  surface,  and  to 
utter  longings  for  emancipation.  It  was  thus  not  an  entire 
wreck  of  the  inner  life.  There  are  chinks  and  openings  that 
appear  every  now  and  then  in  that  deep,  dark,  dungeon-spirit 
— rays  and  flashes  of  nobler  thought  and  aspiration  that  are 
ever  revealing  themselves,  although  only  to  bring  into  sadder 
and  more  fearful  contrast  the  prevailing  gloom.  I  repeat 
it,  however,  this  very  misery  of  his  tells  us  he  was  not  an 
utterly  abandoned  and  hopeless  Castaway.  Had  he  been 
so,  conscience  would  have  crouched  a  submissive  slave  at 
the  feet  of  these  demon  powers.  No  cry  for  deliverance 
would  have  rung  through  these  solitudes ;  the  man,  assi- 
milated to  the  fiends  within  him,  would  have  rather  rushed 
affrighted  from  contact  with  infinite  Purity,  Power,  and 
goodness. 

But,  so  far  from  this,  there  is  evidently  a  struggle  (though 
a  seemingly  hopeless  one)  in  that  tortured  frame.  He  would 
spurn,  if  he  could,  this  alien  tyrant-power  that  was  detaining 
Lim  in  unwilling  bondage,  and  throw  open  the  temple  gates 
cf  his  soul  to  a  nobler  Owner.  As  he  roams  from  rock  to 
rock,  and  from  tomb  to  tomb,  a  cry  for  emancipation  seems 
to  mingle  with  the  wild  wailings  which  ring  through  the 
vaults  of  the  dead, — "  Oh !  wretched  man  that  I  am.  who 
shall  deliver  me?''* 

See  Olshausen,  Stier.  and  Trench,  in  loco. 


!7C  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Is  there  no  response  to  that  wild  appeal  ?  ONE,  and  One 
only,  in  the  wide  world  can  hush  the  tempest  of  that  storm- 
swept  soul,  and  say,  "  Peace,  be  still!"  That  ONE  is  nigh! 
The  Demoniac,  from  the  increased  perturbation  and  tumult 
of  his  spirit,  may  have  had  some  presentiment  given  him  that 
the  Deliverer  was  now  approaching.  It  is  possible  that,  in 
his  moments  of  lucid  consciousness,  he  may  have  heard  of 
a  Great  Prophet  who,  in  the  synagogue  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  lake,  had  expelled  demons  from  bosoms  like  his. 
Hoping  against  hope,  that  he,  too,  might  not  be  beyond  reach 
of  the  omnipotent  word,  he  may  have  been  watching  with 
eager  longing  each  boat  that  dropped  its  sails  as  it  neared 
that  solitary  strand.  At  all  events,  no  sooner  does  the  fish- 
ing-vessel with  the  Lord  and  his  disciples,  touch  the  Gadara 
shore,  than  we  see  him  hastening  down  the  slope,  and  the 
next  moment  he  is  a  suppliant  at  the  Redeemer's  feet ! 

In  this  act  we  recognise  the  man  himself  —  his.  own 
r.obler  nature.  The  demon,  for  the  instant,  has  lost  the 
ascendant,  and  degraded  humanity  asserts  its  right  to  be 
heard. 

"  Come  out  of  the  man,  ihou  unclean  spirit!"  exclaims 
the  voice   of  Him  who  must  have   beheld  with   touching 
L.-i'jtion  the  human  soul  made  "a  habitation  of 'devils "- 
ruined,  dishonoured,  enslaved  I 

But  the  lucid  moment  has  already  passed  into  the  demon 
mood.  The  spirit  within  him  stifles  the  struggles  of  his 
better  self.  Seizing  hold  of  the  man's  speech  and  utterance, 
iv?  tiiiis  breaks  silence,  disowning  Christ's  interference, 
"  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  Jesus,  thou  Son  of  the  most 
High  God?  I  adjure  thee  by  God  that  thou  torment  me  not.'' 


THE  SPOILEK  SPOILED.  1  77 

The  Demoniac,  upon  this,  reeled  back  at  the  sight  of  his 
Deliverer,  and  fell  anew  into  a  convulsive  paroxysm.* 

It  may  seem,  at  first,  strange,  that  obedience  to  Jesus'  om- 
nipotent command  could  be  for  a  moment  delayed.  Doubt- 
less He  could  have  enforced  an  immediate  compliance ;  and 
He  must  have  had  wise  reasons  for  permitting  the  demon  to 
retain  for  an  instant  longer,  his  infuriate  mastery,  after  He  had 
uttered  the  mandate  of  expulsion.  It  has  been  supposed, 
that  in  putting  the  question  to  the  Demoniac,  "  What  is  thy 
name?"  He  wished,  before  his  last  and  most  fearful  par- 
oxysm, to  restore  him  to  personal  consciousness — to  the  re- 
membrance of  his  earlier  history  and  better  times.  But  here, 
again,  either  the  indwelling  demon  anticipates  the  reply — • 
once  more  seizing  on  his  organs  of  speech  as  if  the  question 
had  been  addressed  to  him;  or,  it  may  be,  the  wretched  man, 
confusing  again  his  own  personality  with  that  of  the  devils, 
answered,  saying,  "My  name  is  Legion,  for  ive  are  many." 
LEGION  I  (a  Phalanx — a  compact  squadron  of  Imperial 
Rome  in  battle  array),  is  his  own  description  of  the  invading 
spirits  of  darkness  that  had  run  riot  within  him !  His  whole 
inner  being  had  been  wildly  torn  and  dislocated  by  a  host  of 
infernal  fiends — "  the  rulers  of  the  darkness  of  this  world — 
spiritual  wickednesses  in  high  places." 

But  what  are  all  these  before  the  might  of  Incarnate  Om- 
nipotence ?  Too  well  did  they  know  the  power  of  Him  they 
owned  and  recognised  as  the  "  Son  of  God  most  High."  With 
the  same  remarkable  interchange  of  personality,  either  the 
Demoniac  himself,  or  the  possessing  devils,  importune  the 

*  "  The  better  self,  in  its  enlightened  season,  discerned  a  helper;  the  hostile 
,  when  it  gained  the  predominance,  saw  the  Judge." — Olshausen. 

K 


178  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Saviour  not  to  send  them  to  "  the  deep"  (or  the  abyss),*  tk? 
awful  abode  of  Apostate  Spirits — the  place  of  final  doom  and 
condemnation. 

In,  the  parallel  passage  in  St  Matthew,  they  are  represented 
as  crying  out  as  they  addressed  Jesus,  "  Art  Thou  come  hither 
to  torment  us  BEFOEE  THE  TIME."  What  time?  It  was  the 
hour  which  they  knew  too  well  was  numbered,  when,  with 
their  Great  Leader,  they  should  be  cast  into  the  bottomless 
pit,  "prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 

Their  further  request,  "not  to  be  sent  out  of  the  country," 
was  equivalent  to  the  other.  It  seemed  a  current  belief 
among  the  Jews,  that  each  region  or  district  was  under  the 
sway  of  Good  Angels  and  Wicked  Demons.  If  the  demons, 
in  the  present  instance,  had  been  expelled  their  allotted  region 
at  Gadara,  it  would  have  been  tantamount  to  anticipating 
their  certain  doom — sending  them  beforehand  to  the  awful 
"abyss"  which  was  to  form  their  future  and  everlasting 
dwelling. 

We  need  not  linger  on  the  sequel  of  the  narrative,  nor  on 
the  needless  and  unprofitable  questions  to  which  it  has  given 
rise.  Two  thousand  swine  were  feeding  on  one  of  the  adjoin- 
ing mountains.  Our  Lord,  in  His  sovereignty,  grants  the 
startling  request  of  the  demons,  that,  instead  of  being  driven 
out  of  the  country,  they  might  be  permitted  to  enter  into  the 
animals.  As  a  subordinate  reason,  this  permission  may  have 
been  given  as  a  righteous  retribution  for  the  owners  keeping, 
in  a  Hebrew  territory,  what  was  in  direct  contravention  of 
the  Jewish  law,  (swine  being  reckoned  unclean).  Be  this  as 
it  may.  the  herd,  being  entered  by  the  fiends,  rush  headlong  in 

*  "Afivacros. 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  179 

frantic  rage  to  the  crags  or  slopes  overhanging  the  lake. 
One  after  another,  each  following  its  blind  leader,  they  leap 
over  the  precipices,  and  are  engulphed  in  the 'waters  below. 
The  swineherds  fly  in  consternation  to  the  adjoining  city. 
The  inhabitants  hurry  out  to  verify  with  their  own  eyes  the 
strange  rumours  which  had  reached  them.  Not  only  do  they 
find  the  herd  perishing  in  the  waters,  but,  stranger  than  all, 
the  scourge  and  terror  of  the  region  is  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus,  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind  ! 

Oh  !  wondrous  triumph  over  hellish  confederacy !  Mighty 
as  was  that  Voice  which,  an  hour  before,  had  chained  the 
tempests  and  bridled  the  storm ;  more  wondrous  still  was 
that  which  could  put  a  curb  on  the  untameable  spirit  of  a 
hapless  wreck  of  humanity  •  "  This  poor  man  cried,  and  the 
Lord  heard  nim,  and  delivered  him  out  of  all  his  troubles!" 

Let  us  now  look,  as  we  proposed,  at  this  Picture  in  its 
various  parts  or  details — at  its  lights  and  shadows — the 
dark  side  and  the  bright  side.  In  doing  so,  we  have,  in  the 
dark  side,  the  Possessor  and  the  Possessed;  in  the  bright 
side,  the  Restorer  and  the  Restored. 

I.  THE  POSSESSOR. 

How  awful  the  truth  that  is  here  brought  before  us ; — the 
sway  which  Satan  had,  and  still  has,  in  our  earth  !  Thanks 
be  to  God  it  was  the  culmination  of  his  power  at  that  great 
cris.Vtime  in  the  world's  history — emphatically  "  the  Hour 
and  Power  of  Darkness/'  How  terrible  that  power  must 
have  been,  whroi  the  First  Apostle  who  died — "  Satan  enter- 
ing into  him" — died  a  suicide  and  a  traitor ;  and  the  first  two 


180  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

disciples  of  the  Christian  apostles — "Satan  filling  their  hearts" 
— died  liars  and  hypocrites.* 

Christ,  in  vision,  saw  him  "fall  as  lightning  from  heaven.  ' 
On  the  cross,  He  bruised  his  head,  plucked  the  jewels  from 
his  crown,  rescued  from  him  the  usurped  dominion  of  Life, 
and,  as  the  Moral  Conqueror,  ascending  up  on  high,  He  drag- 
ged him  and  "  captive  multitudes  captive/*  at  the  wheels  of 
His  triumphant  chariot.  Yet  still  does  the  Arch-deceiver 
"  rule  among  the  children  of  disobedience/'  "  Let  not  any  one 
think/'  says  Luther,  "  the  devil  is  now  dead  ;  for  as  He  that 
keepeth  Israel,  so  he  that  hateth  Israel,  neither  slumbers  nor 
sleeps/'  Cases,  indeed,  of  "possession"  of  the  human  body, 
are  either  now  at  an  end,  or  are  comparatively  rare.  It  would 
be  presumption  to  speak  with  confidence  on  a  subject  in 
which  we  have  such  limited  data  to  guide  us.  One  thing, 
at  all  events,  is  plain,  that  if  such  eases  do  occur,  they 
are  not  so  palpable  as  then.  Satan  seeks  now  to  conceal  his 
dominion.  His  name  is  the  "Prince  of  darkness,"  and 
he  delights  to  work  in  the  dark.  Jesus,  on  the  shores  of 
Gennesaret,  forced  him  to  speak  out.  He  dragged  to  light 
the  demon-horde  that  had  converted  a  living  man  into  a 
raving  fiend.  The  raging  lion  was  driven  from  his  lair.  He 
was  exposed,  in  the  very  act  of  "  seeking  whom  he  might  de- 
vour." Noiv,  he  continues  to  lie  concealed  in  the  thicket, — 
he  succeeds  once  more  in  silently  and  stealthily  seizing  his  vic- 
tim, binding  not  the  body  with  iron  chains,  but  the  soul  with 
moral  and  spiritual  fetters,  and  degrading  it  into  a  "  habita- 
tion of  dragons/'  "  He  so  conceals  his  agency/'  says  an  able 
writer,  "  that  while  we  fancy  we  are  sailing  before  the  im- 

*  Howson  and  Couybeare's  "St  PauL* 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  181 

pulse,  and  floating  down  the  stream  of  our  own  free  volitions, 
his  hand  is  01  the  helm  ;  thus  flattering  our  pride,  scoffing  at 
our  weakness,  and  steering  our  destiny  at  the  same  time/'* 

We  dare  not  ignore  this  truth  of  the  existence  and  person- 
ality of  Satan  with  his  subordinate  evil  angels, — his  "  domi- 
nions, principalities,  and  powers" — an  organised  consolidated 
agency  of  evil.  Vast  must  be  their  multitude! — the  air 
around  us,  for  aught  we  know,  is  thronged  with  their  myriad 
ranks  ! — their  assaults  only  parried  by  the  counterworking 
agency  of  Good  Angels — those  whom  God  gives  charge  to 
"  encamp  round  about  His  people,  and  bear  them  up  in  all 
their  ways/' 

Let  us  not  be  guilty  of  rushing  to  a  false  inference  from 
this  doctrine,  that  it  is  incompatible  with  the  freedom  of  a 
moral  agent — that  it  diminishes  our  moral  responsibility — 
that  we  may  plead,  as  an  excuse  for  our  sins,  that  we  have 
become  the  helpless  victims  of  a  power  without  us — that 
(by  a  harsh  fate  which  we  cannot  control)  we  are  "  delivered 
over  unto  Satan/' 

Nay,  verily.  While  the  Bible  does  everywhere  admit  the 
existence  of  that  extraneous  power,  and  traces  to  it  the 
authorship  of  evil — "Satan  hath  filled  thine  heart/' — "Satan 
entered  into  Judas," — "Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan;" — yet 
the  Satan  without,  has  his  echo  in  the  evil  heart  within;  the 
temptation  is  Satan's;  the  crime  and  guilt  is  our  own. 
"  They  sell  themselves,"  says  God,  "  to  work  iniquity.  If  we 
are  set  on  fire  of  hell,  the  fuel  is  our  own  collecting.  Every 
yielding  to  sin  on  our  part,  allows  the  deeper  insertion  of  the 
wedge  on  Satan's-  -an  opening  wider  of  the  heart's  doorway 

*  Dr  Harris. 


182  MEMOEIES  OF  GENKESAKET. 

to  let  the  invader  in.  The  same  Bible  which  tells  of  the 
dread  sovereignty  of  the  arch-apostate  and  his  legions,  com- 
mands us  to  "  EESIST  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  us/' 

Beware  of  his  first  encroachments.  If,  like  the  inhabitants 
of  Jerusalem  of  old,  you  give  him  of  the  gold  of  the  Temple 
to  propitiate  him,  this  will  only  lead  him  to  make  bolder 
demands  till  the  Temple  be  laid  in  ruins.  Your  safety  con- 
sists in  living  near  to  God — soaring  above  the  wiles  of  the 
Great  Adversary  on  the  wings  of  faith  and  prayer.  "  Surely 
in  vain,"  we  read  in  a  striking  verse  in  Proverbs,  "the  net  is 
spread  in  the  sight  of  any  bird"  (or  as  that  is  rendered  in 
the  margin  of  our  Bibles,  "  in  the  sight  of  him  that  moveth 
on  the  winy").  In  vain  will  Satan  spread  his  gins,  and 
snares,  and  nets,  in  the  sight  of  the  Believer,  who,  on  the 
soaring  pinions  of  his  renewed,  regenerated  nature,  rises 
above  the  fascinations  of  the  world — the  toils  of  sin — sing- 
ing, as  he  soars  to  heaven's  gate, — "  I  desire  a  better  country, 
that  is,  an  heavenly  I" 

Turn  we  now  from  the  Possessor  to  the  POSSESSED. 

What  a  terrible  spectacle!  a  Human  Body — God's  own 
Temple — become  a  desecrated  shrine,  the  haunt  and  residence 
of  the  sworn  enemy  of  His  throne  and  His  universe !  The 
man  lapsed  into  the  fiend.  A  Hell  in  embryo  ! 

How  had  he,  we  are  led  to  inquire,  become  the  subject  of 
so  terrible  a  destiny?  Was  it  a  mere  capricious  exercise  of 
demon-rage  that  selected  an  innocent  victim,  and  made  him 
the  sport  of  unmerited  wrong,  so  embittering  life  as  to  cause 
death  to  be  a  happy  release — a  welcome  termination  to  igno- 
minious torture? 


THE  SPOILER  bPOILED.  183 

We  have  no  clue,  indeed,  in  the  narrative  that  would  lead  us 
to  connect  the  man's  present  sufferings  with  his  previous  his- 
tory. But  there  is  at  least  a  strong  presumption  that  his  own 
guilty  excesses  had  invited  the  terrible  assault.  This  legion- 
company  may  have  been  roaming  the  district  in  search  of 
a  victim.  Lo !  the  gates  of  a  corrupt  and  corrupting  soul 
were  found  open  for  their  entrance  ; — a  body  debilitated  by 
gross  passions,  wallowing  in  sensuality,  the  whole  nervous 
system,  shattered  and  unstrung,  bid  welcome  to  the  wander- 
ing horde.  Conscience — the  conscience  of  innocent  days, 
when  a  pure  mind  dwelt  in  an  unpolluted  frame — now  and 
then  awoke  up  to  a  sense  of  present  guilt  and  forfeited  inno- 
cence. But  the  demon-throng  were  ever  watching  to  crush 
the  aspirations  of  nobler  life,  and  hurry  him  at  last  as  their 
companion  to  the  abyss  ! 

This  gives  an  awful  reality  to  the  Picture  before  us,  and 
invests  it  with  utterances  of  pathetic  warning.  Ah,  is  it  not 
to  be  feared  that  it  is  the  actual  picture  of  many  who,  in  the 
words  of  Scripture,  "  give  themselves  over  to  licentiousness, 
to  work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness/'  paying  for  their 
excesses  the  terrible  penalty  of  a  shattered  body,  a  ruined 
soul,  and  a  maniac's  end  ! 

Would  that  youth,  in  the  hot  fever  of  its  passions,  if  un- 
restrained by  loftier  Bible  motives,  would  come  with  us  to 
Gadara,  and  gaze  on  the  picture  of  its  inevitable  fate — this 
awful  Bible  picture  of  SENSUAL  EXCESS  !  Would  that  those 
who  have  surrendered  themselves  to  tyrant  lusts — pandering 
to  base  appetite,  destroying  and  enervating  their  bodily 
frames — would  mark  here  the  terrible  destiny  awaiting  them. 
Our  own  asylums  can,  at  this  hour,  furnish  many  a  counter- 


184)  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESABET. 

part.  See  yonder  wretch — half  man,  half  fiend — coiled  up, 
shuddering  with  terror,  in  one  of  the  midnight  tombs  of 
Galilee,  clutching  the  ground  in  the  wilclness  of  despair — the 
chains  dangling  by  his  -side,  and  the  blood  streaming  from 
suicidal  wounds — his  body  turned  into  a  living  grave ! 
SLAVES  OF  ABANDONED  LUST  ! — "  Oh  that  you  were  wise, 
that  you  understood  this,  that  you  would  consider  your 

LATTER  END." 

We  pass  to  a  more  pleasing  theme — the  bright  side  of  the 
Picture — to  the  EESTOEER  and  the  EESTOEED.  Here  (as  in 
all  the  other  Gospel  scenes  we  have  hitherto  contemplated) 
stands  out,  in  bright  and  beautiful  contrast,  the  DIVINE 
SAVIOUK — the  Restorer  of  the  lost,  the  Comforter  of  the  cast 
down. 

If  ever  there  was  a  case,  which,  we  might  have  thought, 
would  have  repelled  Infinite  Goodness  and  Infinite  Purity, 
it  is  that  which  we  are  now  considering.  No  Lazar-house 
more  loathsome  or  polluted  than  this.  Joined  to  his  filthy 
idols — the  trail  of  the  serpent  in  every  chamber  of  imagery 
— Christ  might  well  have  said,  "  Let  him  alone  ! " 

But  who  can  "  limit"  the  Holy  One  of  Israel?  He  will  leave 
behind  in  that  wild  region,  if  He  should  never  visit  it  again, 
ONE  ever-during  memorial  of  His  grace  and  power.  He  would 
tell  His  church  and  people  in  every  age,  that  if  Satan  is  mighty, 
there  is  a  mightier  still; — that  over  this  legion  dominion  "all 
power  is  committed"  to  the  "Stronger"  than  the  "strong 
man."  He  has  only  to  utter  the  word,  and  the  demons  sur- 
render their  prey,  and  crouch  submissive  at  His  feet ! 

Moreover,  adverting  to  a  still  further  exhibition  of  the  Sa* 


THE  SPOILEE  SPOILED.  185 

viour's  power  in  the  sequel  of  the  narrative,  observe  the  Devils 
would  not  and  dared  not  enter  into  the  herd  of  swine,  until 
they  had  received  His  permissive  word  "  Go."  Blessed  assur- 
ance !  Satan's  power  is  bounded  !  Satan's  Lord  says  now, 
as  then,  "  Thus  far  shall  thou  go,  and  no  farther,  and  here 
shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed!" 

Both  from  the  case  of  this  Gadarene  Demoniac  and  the 
one  in  the  Synagogue  of  Capernaum,  we  learn,  that,  great  as 
was  the  sway  of  Satan  over  the  bodies  and  souls  of  men, 
it  was  not  such  as  to  prevent  them  betaking  themselves 
to  Jesus,  and  seeking  His  mercy  If  this  were  so  at  a 
time  when  the  influence  of  the  great  Adversary  was  at  its 
height,  we  may  take  comfort  in  the  assurance  that  no  power 
of  Satan  can  now  deter  us  fleeing  to  the  "  Power  of  God  ; '' 
that  if  our  Eaith  and  Hope  is  built  upon  that  Rock,  "  the 
gates  of  Hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it."  * 

And  further,  in  connexion  with  the  Restorer  of  this  Demo- 
niac, we  have  the  assurance  that  there  is  a  period  of  tri- 
umph at  hand — a  time  coming  when  Satan's  kingdom  shall 
be  destroyed,  when  Jesus  shall  put  him -and  all  other  enemies 
"  under  his  feet/1 

That  Satanic  Empire  got  its  final  and  greatest  blow  on  the 
cross  of  Calvary.  "Now,"  said  Jesus,  when  that  cross  was 
projecting  its  shadow  on  his  path,  "  shall  the  Prince  of  this 
world  be  cast  out  \"  It  was  even  so.  "  As  He  bowed  His 
head,  and  cried,  '  It  is  finished  !'  he  dragged  the  pillars  of  the 
Usurper's  Empire  to  the  dust."  And  if  "we  see  not  yet  all 
things  put  under  Him,"  we  know  on  infallible  authority  that 
victory  does  await  the  Prince  of  life.  The  chain  is  already 
*  See  "  Bluut's  Lectures,"  vol.  ii.  p.  21. 


186  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

forged  which  is  to  bind  the  destroyer.  Ever  since  the  day  when 
his  serried  legions  were  routed  at  Calvary,  the  leal  subjects 
of  his  Divine  Conqueror  have  been  following  up  the  triumph 
of  their  Lord,  gathering  spoils  and  trophies  from  the  nations  so 
long  enthralled — the  Great  Captain  of  Salvation  "from  hence- 
forth expecting,  until  His  enemies  be  made  His  footstool." 
Ye  who  are  feeling  at  times  downcast  by  reason  of  "  the 
depths  of  Satan/'  mourning  over  his  power  alike  in  your  own 
hearts,  in  the  church  of  God,  and  in  the  world ;  remember  his 
doom  is  sealed !  Jesus  can  say  of  each  one  of  His  people  as  of 
Gad  of  old,  "  A  troop  shall  overcome  him,  but  he  shall  over- 
come at  the  last."  We  can  anticipate  with  confidence  the 
predicted  period  when  the  tyranny  of  six  thousand  years  shall 
end — Satan  and  all  his  discomfited  legions  strewn,  like  the 
hosts  of  Egypt,  on  the  si.  ores  of  Time — and,  in  the  words  of 
God  to  His  true  Israel,  "  The  enemies  ye  have  seen  to-day,  ye 
shall  see  no  more  for  ever." 

Finally,  Let  us  contemplate  THE  RESTORED. 

How  beautiful  this  calm  sunset  after  a  storm-wreathed  sky  ! 
His  fellow-citizens  come  out  in  numbers  to  witness  the  pro- 
digy— the  once  infuriated  man  sitting,  like  a  child,  at  the  feet 
of  his  deliverer,  "  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind/'  A  vaster 
than  mere  deliverance  from  a  bodily  thraldom  would  seem  to 
have  been  his — it  was  a  translation  all  at  once  "  out  of  dark- 
ness into  marvellous  light/'  No  captive  hurried  from  the 
woild's  darkest  and  most  pestilential  dungeon  to  breathe  the 
pure  light  of  day,  ever  experienced  the  gladsome  sensations 
of  this  Restored  Den  oniac. 

Can  we  wonder  at  his  fervent  wish,  as  his  Lord  and  the 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  187 

disciples  are  once  more  about  to  depart  and  cross  the  Lake, 
that  he  might  be  allowed  to  accompany  them?  What,  he 
might  naturally  think,  may  be  the  consequence  when  my  de- 
liverer is  gone  ?  A  new  irruption,  either  of  the  old  legion  or 
of  a  fresh  relay  from  the  Hosts  of  Darkness,  may  be  made  on 
this  trembling  frame,  and  my  last  state  may  be  "  worse  than 
the  first."  How  natural  that  he  should  cling  in  grateful  love  to 
that  mighty  Being,  who  had  "  brought  him  out  of  the  horrible 
pit,  and  out  of  the  miry  clay,  and  set  'his  feet  upon  a  Rock, 
and  established  his  goings,  and  put  a  new  song  into  his  mouth, 
even  praise  unto  our  God/'  "  HOWBEIT  Jesus  suffered  him 
not,  but  saith  unto  him,  Go  home  to  thy  friends,  and  tell 
them  how  great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  thee,  and 
hath  had  compassion  on  thee."  * 

We  cannot  pronounce  what  may  have  been  the  special 
object  Jesus  had  in  giving  this  man  such  express  injunctions 
to  publish  his  cure,  while  the  same  publicity,  as  you  will  re- 
member, he  strictly  forbade  in  the  case  of  the  Leper. 

It  has  been  surmised  that  a  previous  profligate  life  had  in- 
volved his  acquaintances  and  friends  in  his  guilt  and  ruin, 
and  he  may  have  been  sent  specially  to  warn  them,  lest  theirs 
might  be  the  same  terrible  doom  without  the  same  hope  of 
deliverance.  Christ's  refusal  to  allow  him  to  accompany  him 
may,  moreover,  have  been  intended  as  a  great  lesson  for  all — • 
that  true  rest  and  repose  in  a  Saviour's  presence  is  reserved 
for  heaven ;  that  life  has  great  duties  and  great  responsibi- 
lities ;  that  religion  is  not  a  thing  to  be  thrust  into  a  corner, 
the  joys  of  which  are  to  be  selfishly  appropriated,  without  one 
effort  to  impart  them  to  others ;  but  home,  friends,  country, 
*  Mark  v.  19. 


188  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

human  kind,  are  the  successive  spheres  for  the  operation  of 
our  Christian  influence.  Shining  first  and  brightest  in  our 
own  dwellings,  the  light  of  truth  must  radiate  to  the  earth's 
circumference. 

While  from  this  man's  history  there  is  a  voice  of  terrible 
learning,  there  is  a  voice  surely  also  of  encouragement  and 
mercy. 

Are  there  any  whose  eyes  may  fall  on  these  pages  conscious 
of  a  lifetime  of  sin  ?  trembling  on  the  brink  of  despair,  fear- 
ful lest  all  be  lost  ?  ONE  has  come  to  the  shores  of  a  deso- 
late world ;  He  has  encountered  tempests  of  wrath,  that  He 
might  reach  your  homes  and  hearts  of  wretchedness  with  the 
word  of  pardon  and  peace  1  Oh,  flee  to  Him  without  delay. 
Your  spiritual  adversaries  may  be  many — "their  name  is 
legion'—  but  One  is  on  your  side,  alone,  but  OMNIPOTENT. 
"  GOD  is  for  you,  who  can  be  against  you?" 

Yes,  there  is  no  room  to  despair.  Blessed  be  His  name, 
there  are  none  debarred  and  excluded  from  mercy,  and  to 
whom  we  may  not  utter  the  free  message,  "  Turn  ye  to  the 
stronghold,  ye  prisoners  of  hope." 

With  these  demons  of  the  text  the  case  was  different. 
With  them  Hope  was  extinguished.  Their  probation  time 
had  come  and  gone ;  their  mighty  game  for  Eternity  had 
been  staked  and  lost ;  their  die  was  cast,  and  cast  for  ever ! 
"  What  have  WE  to  do  ivith  THEE  ?"  was  their  too  truthful 
theology.  The  door  of  mercy  on  them  was  irrevocably  shut. 
They  had  "gone  to  their  own  place!" 

But  it  is  with  you  as  with  the  demoniac !  A  Saviour's 
voice  can  still  reach  you — a  Saviour's  blood  can  still  wash 
you !  You  may  up  to  this  hour  have  been  "  wretched, 


THE  SPOILER  SPOILED.  189 

miserable,  poor,  blind,  naked,"  but  His  grace  can  bring  you 
submissive  to  His  feet ; — seat  you  there  "  clothed,  and  in  your 
right  mind/'  clad  in  the  spotless  raiment  of  His  imputed 
righteousness  ! 

"Behold  the  goodness  and  severity  of  God — on  them 
that  fell  severity,  but  on  us  goodness  if  we  continue  in 
His  goodness!" 

See  that  that  goodness  be  not  spurned.  Flee  to  that 
Saviour's  feet  while  yet  He  tarries  on  the  earthly  side  of 
the  Lake.  Soon  He  may  depart ; — soon  He  may  recross  the 
waters- -the  opportunity  of  meeting  Him  may  be  past !  This 
was  probably  the  one  solitary  visit  He  ever  made  to  the  Ga- 
darenes.  It  may  be  the  same  to  us.  See  that  our  conduct 
be  not  a  copy  of  theirs,  bidding  Him  begone,  "  praying  Him 
to  depart  out  of  our  coasts."  He  may  never  return.  He  may 
take  us  at  our  word.  He  may  prove  in  this,  by  stern  reality 
"  a  prayer-answering  God." 

Might  He  not  have  so  dealt  with  us  ere  now  ?  How  often, 
already,  have  we  rejected  Him  ?  Oh  !  if  He  had  done  to  us, 
as  he  did  to  the  Gadarenes — granted  our  request — where 
should  we  have  been  at  this  hour  ? 

But  still  He  lingers !  The  anchor  of  Hope  still  clings  to 
the  sands  of  Time.  Still  is  He  "  waiting  tc  be  gracious/' 
"  If  thou  seek  Him  He  will  be  found  of  tUee,  BUT  if  thou 
forsake  Him,  HE  WILL  CAST  THEE  OFF  FOR  EVER!" 


XII. 


Fondly  I  prized  that  lovely  mind 
Where  all  was  gentle,  sweet,  and  mild  ; 

A  thousand  blooming  flowers  entwined 
The  earth-bower  of  my  sainted  child! 

Forth  sped  the  doom — "  Return  to  dust !" 
In  the  cold  grave  my  treasure  lies ; 

I  was  a  traitor  to  my  trust, 
I  got  it  not  to  idolise  ! 


Hush  !  breaking  heart,  that  pines  and  weeps, 

Laughing  the  holy  word  to  scorn, 
"  The  maiden  is  not  dead  but  sleeps;'* 

You  '11  meet  her  on  the  Heavenly  morn ! 

"  And,  behold,  there  came  a  man  named  Jairus,  and  he  was  a  ruler  of  the 
synagogue;  and  he  fell  down  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  besought  him  that  he  would 
come  into  his  house  :  for  he  had  one  only  daughter,  about  twelve  years  of  age, 
and  she  lay  a  dying."— LUKE  viii.  41,  42;  MITT.  ix.  18  ;  MARK  v.  22-43, 


191 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER 

THE  two  last  incidents  we  considered,  were  the  Storm  on  the 
Lake,  and  the  more  terrible  picture  on  its  eastern  shore,  of 
the  Gadarene  Demoniac. 

"  The  Man  Christ  Jesus/'  oppressed  with  fatigue  of  body 
and  exhaustion  of  spirit,  lay  stretched,  fast  asleep,  in  the 
hinder  part  of  a  fishing- vessel,  till  roused  by  His  disciples 
from  His  needed  repose,  to  allay  the  tempest.  On  landing, 
we  found  Him  encountering  a  victim  of  Satanic  rage — a 
bosom  more  troubled  than  earth's  most  unquiet  sea !  But 
to  the  moral  storm,  as  to  the  natural,  He  had  said,  "  Peace, 
be  still!"  Then,  as  a  strange  sequel  to  this  miracle,  the 
Gadarenes  "prayed  Him  to  depart  out  of  their  coasts."  In 
obedience  to  their  ungrateful  wish,  He  has  taken  ship,  once 
more,  to  the  western  side,  where  the  people  are  already 
lining  the  beach,  eager  to  welcome  Him. 

And  what  is  the  first  recorded  incident  in  connexion  with 
the  Lord  and  His  disciples,  as  they  again  tread  the  streets 
of  Capernaum  ?  They  had  left  behind  them  a  fearful  monu- 
ment of  Sin.  They  are  called  now  to  behold  Sin's  terrible 
consequences ! 

Ah  !  Death  ! — thou  unsparing  Foe  ! — terrible  I  ivader  ! — 
Severer  of  the  firmest  of  earthly  bonds — causing,  from  the  hour 
of  the  fall,  one  loud  wail  of  suffering  to  arise  from  the  house- 
holds thou  hast  swept — converting  the  world  itself  into  one 


192  MEMORIES  OP  GENNKSAKET. 

vast  sepulchre — its  teeming  millions  a  long  burial  procession 
*o  the  one  long  home  ! — every  heart  beating  its  own  "  funeral 
march  to  the  grave  I"  But  the  Prince  and  Lord  of  Life 
now  draws  near.  Thou  art  about  to  be  stormed  in  thine 
own  citadel, — compelled  to  relinquish  thy  prey ;  and  to  every 
bosom  in  all  time  which  thou  art  rudely  to  rifle,  there  are 
consolatory  words  and  lessons  to  be  gathered  from  this  scene 
we  are  now  to  consider. 

Let  us  first  rehearse  the  narrative ;  and  then  endeavour 
to  gather  up  some  of  the  more  solemn  and  comforting  truths 
which  that  narrative  enforces. 

We  have  no  further  light  thrown  m  Gospel  story,  on  the 
principal  personage  in  this  scene.  He  was  Euler  or  Prefect 
of  the  synagogue  of  CAPERNAUM  ;  supposed  to  be  one  of  those 
"  elders  of  the  Jews"  we  previously  found  coming  in  a  body 
or  deputation,  to  intercede  with  Jesus  in  behalf  of  the  Cer- 
turion's  servant,*  saying,  that  "  he  was  worthy  for  whom  he 
should  do  this,  for  he  loveth  our  nation,  and  he  hath  built 
us  a  synagogue." 

This  pious  Israelite  had  urged  his  suit  successfully  for 
another, — the  slave  of  a  Gentile  soldier  who  had  been 
stretched  on  a  couch  of  sickness,  "  ready  to  die."  The 
Divine  philanthropist  had  listened  to  the  pleadings  of  faith 
and  gratitude,  and  straightway  accompanied  him  in  the 
direction  of  that  soiaier  s  abode. 

But  a  far  tenderer  case  now  engrosses  this  Kuler's  thoughts, 
— a  far  tenderer  sorrow  weighs  down  his  own  heart.  The 
grim  Messenger  is  now  standing  at  his  own  portal ! 

*  Luke  vii.  4,  5. 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  193 

An  Only  Daughter,  like  the  one  Ewe  lamb  of  the  prophet's 
parable,  gladdened  his  home.  She  had  arrived,  too,  just  at 
that  age  when  a  father's  heart-strings  are  bound  fastest 
and  firmest  around  his  child's  soul,  and  ere  the  world  had 
time  to  taint  or  stain  her  with  its  corruptions.  With  that 
child  had  been  doubtless  interwoven  every  thought  of  the 
future; — she  was  the  pride  of  the  family, — the  prop  of 
the  present, — the  promised  solace  of  her  parents'  old  age. 
Often  perhaps,  in  the  midst  of  other  trials,  they  would 
glance  at  the  loving  spirit  at  their  side,  and  say,  "  This 
same  shall  comfort  us."  But  health  and  strength,  youth 
and  intelligence,  are  unable  to  exclude  the  sleepless  foe  of 
human  happiness.  The  shadows  of  death  are  falling  around 
that  dwelling ;  and  it  is  the  one  they  least  dreamt  of,  that 
is  marked  out  to  fall! 

We  have  not  detailed  to  us,  as  in  the  case  of  Lazarus,  the 
circumstantials  of  that  hour  of  anxiety  and  sorrow ;  whether 
disease  had  crept  imperceptibly  upon  her ;  the  King  of 
terrors  coming  with  noiseless  step — velvet-footfall  ;  the  taper 
of  decaying  life  burning  down  slo.vly  till  it  reached  its  socket; 
or  whether,  with  appalling  suddenness,  the  arrow  had  sped 
— the  sun,  which  perhaps  that  morning  rose  on  a  cheerful 
home,  setting  over  the  valley  of  death,  amid  weeping  clouds. 
All  the  entry  we  have  in  the  inspired  Record  is,  "  She  lay 
a  dying/'  She  had  reached  that  terrible  crisis-hour  when 
hope's  last  glimmerings  were  being  extinguished — the  last 
tides  of  life  were  slowly  ebbing — that  sun  was  "  going  down 
while  it  was  yet  day  ! " 

Can  nought  be  done  to  arrest  the  arrow  in  its  course — to 
stay  that  sun  from  so  premature  a  setting  ?  The  anguished 

H 


194  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

father  thinks  of  ONE,  and  ONE  alone,  who  can  say,  "  Sun, 
stand  thou  still ! " 

"Can  that  same  Jesus"  (he  might  think  to  himself),  "who 
cured  a  humble  Slave,  who  gave  back  to  a  fond  Master 
the  life  of  a  faithful  servant" — can  He  not  (will  He  not) 
pity  "  one  of  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel?"  Will 
He,  can  He,  if  I  rush  to  Him  in  this  hour  of  my  sorrow, 
deny  me  His  pitying  love,  and  the  exercise  of  His  wondrous 
power  ?" 

There  is  no  time  for  delay.  With  fleet  footstep  he  rushes 
to  the  feet  of  the  Prophet  of  Galilee,  and  in  an  agony  of 
prayer  beseeches  Him  to  follow  him  to  his  dwelling.  The 
Saviour  obeys ;  accompanied  by  a  promiscuous  crowd,  among 
whom  deeper  and  holier  feelings  and  sympathies  mingle  with 
vain  curiosity.  As  He  hastens  in  the  direction  of  this  home 
of  death,  we  may  mark,  in  passing,  the  discriminating  ten- 
derness of  the  Eedeemer's  sympathy  in  all  the  three  recorded 
cases  of  His  raising  from  the  dead — at  Capernaum,  at 
Nain,  at  Bethany; — an  only  Daughter,  an  only  Son,  an  only 
Brother! 

An  incident,  meanwhile,  takes  place  by  the  way,  which  for 
a  time  impedes  His  progress.  A  woman,  "with  an  issue  of 
blood,"  steals  unobserved  through  the  thronging  crowd, 
touches  the  blue  fringe  of  the  Lord's  garment,  and  receives 
an  instantaneous  cure.  But  instead  of  passing,  as  we  might 
expect,  with  all  haste  to  the  more  urgent  case,  Jesus  pauses 
and  dwells  on  this  intermediate  one.  He  summons  into 
His  presence  the  subject  of  His  healing  power,  in  order 
that  He  may  manifest  to  others  the  victory  of  faith,  and 
utter  in  her  own  ear,  words  of  encouragement  and  peace. 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER  195 

Hard,  unseasonable  interruption,  we  are  aj:t  to  think! 
Each  moment  was  precious  to  that  trembling  parent.  The 
sand-glass  of  that  loved  one's  life  was  hurrying  to  its  last 
grain.  He  might  have  reached  her  in  time,  had  it  not  been 
for  this.  But  the  likelihood  is  that  the  golden  opportunity  is 
past  and  gone ;  these  few  minutes'  delay  have  cost  the  Father 
his  child — locked  her  fast  in  a  sleep  too  deep  to  be  disturbed! 

And  yet,  we  may  well  believe,  there  were  gracious  pur- 
poses in  this,  as  there  ever  are  in  much  which  our  blindness  is 
apt  to  regard  as  untoward  and  unpropitious.  The  smaller 
miracle — (the  intermediate  cure) — would  prepare  the  crowd 
for  receiving  the  greater  one.  Above  all,  it  would  strengthen 
and  confirm  the  faith  of  the  witnessing  parent, — lead  him  to 
hope  against  hope,  and,  in  the  extremity  of  his  anguish,  make 
him  "strong  in  faith,  giving  glory  to  God/'*  We  hear  from 
his  lips  no  fretful  and  impatient  utterances — no  insinuations 
against  his  Lord,  or  against  the  other  suppliant,  regarding  the 
delay.  Meekly  he  waits  the  Redeemer's  time  and  will ;  and 
erelong  he  shall  have  the  promise  fulfilled  in  his  experience: 
"The  Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for  him,  to  the  soul 
that  seeketh  him/'  "  It  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  both  hope 
and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  God." 

BUT  just  at  the  moment  when  faith  has  got  its  pledge  of 
Divine  power, — when  the  procession  is  again  in  motion,  and 
joyous  visions  of  the  past  are  beginning  to  people  the  future, 
messengers  from  his  homestead  are  the  bearers  of  heavy 
tidings:  "  Thy  daughter  is  dead,  trouble  not  the  master!" 
"Fatigue  not  (as  the  word  means),  that  weary,  toil-worn 
Saviour; — add  not  to  his  journey  or  exhaustion.  Let  Him 

*  See  Trench,  in  two. 


196  MEMORIES  OF  C  JNNESABET. 

have  the  rest  He  so  much  requires  ;  His  presence  could  be 
of  no  avail  now,  for  death  has  put  his  impressive,  irrevocable 
seal  on  these  lips." 

Ah!  bitter  intelligence!  Just  when  hope  was  in  the  as- 
cendant— when  the  future  was  beginning  again  to  have  its 
rainbow  hues  spanning  a  dark  sky, — these  tints  melt  and 
merge  into  a  deeper  darkness  than  before.  The  torch  is 
quenched.  The  great  dreaded  blight  of  existence  has  passed 
over  the  parent's  heart ! 

Now  is  the  time  for  Jesus'  utterances  of  comfort;  for  now 
was  the  moment  when  doubt  and  misgiving  were  most  likely 
to  rise  and  eclipse  the  hitherto  triumphant  actings  of  faith. 
Now  was  the  time  for  those  harsh  thoughts  of  rebellious 
nature,  we  have  already  hinted  at,  which  so  often,  at  such 
seasons,  overmaster  our  nobler  feelings.  "  If  it  had  been  but 
a  few  moments  sooner,  my  child  might  have  been  spared! 
If  the  Lord  had  only  postponed  the  performance  of  that  other 
act  of  love  till  He  had  left  my  threshold,  I  might  still  have 
had  my  gourd  blossoming  around  me !  It  was  these  moments 
of  delay  that  bereft  me  of  my  household  treasure.  By  stop- 
ping  to  give  peace  to  one  sufferer,  He  has  done  so  at  the 
sacrifice  of  all  that  most  fondly  bound  me  to  earth  I " 

If  these,  and  thoughts  like  these,  were  about  to  arise, 
Christ  in  mercy  interposes.  We  read,  "Jesus  answered,"  (not 
that  Jairus  out-spoke  his  own  feelings,  but  He  who  reads 
the  secret  heart  answered  to  what  was  passing  in  the  heaving 
depths  of  that  soul) — "Hush !  hush !"  He  seems  to  say,  "suffer 
not  these  thoughts  to  arise  in  your  heart;  dismiss  all  such 
unworthy  doubts."  "Be  not  afraid,  only  believe." 

And  now  He  has  reached  the  house.     The  trappings  and 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  197 

outward  pageantry  of  death  too  truthfully  verify  the  tidings 
of  the  messengers.  In  accordance  with  oriental  custom, 
hired  mourners  and  hired  minstrels  were  already  filling  that 
silent  chamber  with  dirges ;  while  with  these  mingled  the 
deeper  and  truer  wailings  of  the  smitten  hearts. 

"Give  place!"  said  Christ,  as  in  a  tone  of  authority  He 
rebuked  these  vehement  demonstrations  of  mimic  sorrow — 
"  Why  make  ye  this  ado,  and  weep  ?  the  damsel  is  not  deadt 
l)ut  SLEEPETH."  An  enigmatical  expression  to  the  tumultuous 
mob  around,  but  to  the  father,  it  was  the  renewal  and  re- 
petition under  a  lovely  figure  of  the  former  pacifying  utter- 
ance, "  Be  not  afraid,  only  believe."  The  word  "dead" — the 
utterance  of  the  human  messengers,  too  well  calculated  to  an- 
nihilate the  last  spark  of  hope — is  replaced  by  the  rekindling 
word,  " she  sleeps" *  Man  has  put  the  terrible  extinguisher 
on  that  lamp.  But  Jesus  says,  " Fear  not"  What  is  that 
message  of  death,  when  /,  the  Lord  of  life,  have  been  sum- 
moned by  you?  You  have  seen  my  power  on  a  suffering 
woman  ; — "  only  believe,  and  I  will  shew  you  greater  things 
than  these." 

The  irreverent  thronging  crowd  are  kept  outside.  The 
nimic  mourners  are  all  excluded.  His  three  favoured 
lisciples  (afterwards  the  witnesses  of  His  transfiguration  on 
:he  Mount,  and  of  His  agony  in  the  garden),  are  alone  allowed 
to  enter  the  chamber  sacred  to  sorrow.  In  dumb  emotion 
the  two  parents  are  bending  over  their  withered  flower.  But 
30  also  is  He  who  gave  it — who  planted  it — who  plucked  it — 
and  who  is  to  give  it  back  again.  In  the  might  of  His  own 
omnipotence — in  His  own  name  (without  invoking,  like  Hio 
*  See  Stier,  vol.  i  ,  p.  412. 


198  MEMORIES  OP  G3XNESAHET. 

prophets  or  apostles  tinder  similar  circumstances,  any  higher 
power),  death  is  summoned  to  yield  His  Victim.  "He  tools 
the  damsel  by  tlie  hand,  and  said  unto  her,  Talitha  cumi,  I 
say  unto  thee,  ariss."  The  sleeper  awoke.  The  prostrate 
Lily  raises  its  drooping  head,  and  sheds  once  more  its  fra- 
grance in  that  joyous  home.  That  happy  Israelite  might  well 
take  up  the  words  of  his  great  ancestor,  which  he  had  so 
often  read  in  the  synagogue  service,  but  perhaps  without 
being  ever  before  touched  by  them :  "  Thou  hast  turned  my 
mourning  into  dancing,  Thou  hast  put  off  my  sackcloth  and 
girded  me  with  gladness,  to  the  end  that  my  glory  may  yire 
praise  to  Thee,  and  not  be  silent  0  Lord>  my  God,  I  will 
give  thanks  unto  thee  for  ever." 

Let  us  now  seek  to  ponder  one  or  two  of  those  practical 
lessons  with  which  this  scene  and  passage  are  replete. 

I.  The  first  lesson  we  may  gather  from  the  text  is,  that  all 
are  exposed  to  domestic  bereavement. 

It  may  seem  unkind  to  break  the  trance  of  earthly  bliss  by 
referring  to  the  possibility,  far  less  the  certainty,  of  trial. 
And  yet  it  is  needful,  ever  and  anon,  solemnly  to  repeat  the 
warning  that  you  and  yours  "  will  not  live  alway." 

If  God  has  hitherto  put  upon  your  household  the  exempt- 
ing mark — if  the  destroying  angel  has  passed  by  your  door 
unscathed — if  you  have  no  vacant  chair  at  your  home-hearth, 
no  yawning  chasm  in  your  heart  of  hearts — you  are  the  ex- 
ception, not  the  rule.  God  knows  we  have  no  gloomy 
pleasure  in  being  prophets  of  evil.  It  is  a  poor  gospel  to 
dwell  on  harrowing  thoughts  of  death — the  shroud — the 
grave  !  But  I  would  take  these  as  preachers,  to  enforce  the 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  199 

lesson  daily  taught  us,  "  Be  ye  also  ready"  Yes,  sooner  or 
later,  each  one  of  us,  parents  and  children,  shall  be  brought 
to  learn  the  solemn  truth,  "/  am  about  to  die.3'  And  if 
there  be  one  who  peruses  these  pages,  who,  like  the  minstrels 
of  whom  we  have  been  speaking,  is  ready  to  have  a  smile  on 
his  lips,  and  to  "  laugh  to  scorn"  a  trite  commonplace  which 
every  one  knows  and  many  care  not  to  hear; — if  youth  in 
its  strength,  or  manhood  in  its  prime,  is  saying  inwardly, 
"  No  fear  of  me,"  "  My  mountain  is  standing  strong," — we 
would  say  to  him  with  deep  solemnity,  "  Thou  fool,  this 
night  thy  soul  may  be  required  of  thee  !  " 

Parents  may  well  listen  to  a  special  word  of  solemn  admo- 
nition. The  death  spoken  of  in  the  text  was  that  of  a  child 
"twelve  years  of  age."  "While  this  tells  that  your  children 
may,  at  any  ago  or  at  any  time,  be  taken  from  you,  it  ought  to 
urge  upon  you  fidelity  to  your  immortal  trust.  If  you  would 
wish  the  richest  of  all  solaces  when  you  are  bereft  of  them, 
deal  faithfully  with  their  souls  now.  Do  not  allow  any  false 
shame  to  prevent  you  in  all  seriousness  speaking  to  them  of 
the  things  which  belong  to  their  everlasting  peace.  If  you 
should  ever  come  to  mourn  over  an  er,rly  grave,  to  you  it 
will  be  the  sweetest  of  all  consolations  if  you  can  think  that 
that  "  buried  treasure  of  yearning  hearts"  was  the  subject  of 
a  mother's  prayers  and  a  father's  counsels — that  under  that 
grassy  sod  there  sleeps  the  child  who  from  earliest  years  you 
had  "lent  to  the  Lord."  On  the  other  hand,  it  will  be  the 
bitterest  of  reflections  (the  iron  truly  will  enter  into  your 
soul),  if  you  have  to  weep  burning  tears  of  anguish  over 
parental  unfaithfulness  and  neglect.  Bereft  of  that  hope, 
"  My  child  is  in  glory,"  you  will  be  bereft  indeed  I 


200  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

IT.  We  learn  from  this  passage,  that  we  need  trials  to 
bring  us  near  to  God. 

It  was  his  child's  sickness  that  drove  Jairus  to  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  But  for  that  home-trial  his  faith  would  never  have 
been  exercised,  nor  his  love  and  gratitude  evoked.  While  in 
health  and  prosperity,  we  are  apt  to  take  God's  gifts  as  matters 
of  course.  It  is  not  till  the  storm  rises,  that,  with  these  atheist 
hearts  of  ours,  (like  the  heathen  sailors  in  Jonah's  vessel),  we 
fall  upon  our  knees  and  feel  that  our  only  safety  is  in  Him 
"  who  ruleth  the  raging  of  the  seas/'  Yes  1  when  God  makes 
breaches  in  our  households — when  He  brings  home  to  us  the 
truth  that  our  existence,  and  the  existence  of  our  children,  is 
a  perpetual  miracle — when  we  discover  that  those  little  lives, 
Pillars  in  our  households,  which  we  have  vainly  thought  were 
pillars  of  iron,  turn  out  to  be  pillars  of  dust; — when  the 
solid  alabaster  discovers  itself  to  be  the  melting  snow-wreath, 
• — then  are  we  driven  to  discover  what  is  the  alone  imperish- 
able Portion ! 

If  God  be  visiting  any  one  of  you  with  the  deep  experience 
of  trial,  it  is  that  He  may  speak  home  to  you.  Never  does  He 
speak  so  gently,  so  wisely,  so  loudly,  so  solemnly,  as  when  He 
asserts  His  right  to  take  away  what  He  originally  gave.  See, 
in  the  text,  the  unbelieving,  laughing,  mocking  crowd,  are 
disqualified  to  hear  Jesus.  They  have  "  passed  at  a  bound  " 
from  their  mimic  sorrow  to  heartless  mirth ;  simulators — 
actors — they  are  thrust  out  of  that  Holy  Presence.  But  the 
stricken  Parents  are  taken  into  the  favoured  circle.  They 
gaze  upwards  from  the  face  of  the  dead  on  Him  who  is 
"fairer  than  the  children  of  men/'  In  such  a  Presence 
unbelief  is  hushed,  and  fr.ith  is  ready  to  hear  "  what  God  the 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  201 

Lord  has  to  say  unto  their  souls."  How  many  can  tell,  "  But 
for  the  death  of  that  Parent,  that  Brother,  that  Sister,  that 
Child,  I  should  have  been  to  this  hour  without  God  and  with- 
out hope !  " 

III.  Let  us  learn,  from  the  incident  of  the  text,  the  comfort 
of  Prayer  in  the  hour  of  sickness  and  death. 

This  Kuler,  we  read,  "fell  at  Jesus  feet,  and  BESOUGHT 
him  GREATLY,  saying,  My  little  daughter  lieth  at  the  point  of 
death;  I  pray  Thee,  come  and  lay  Thy  hands  on  her,  that  she 
may  be  healed  !" 

Trial  drove  Jairus  in  his  hour  of  dreaded  bereavement  to 
prayer,  and  "th-3  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  this  righteous 
man  availed  much." 

The  same  blessed  refuge  is  open  for  us  in  times  of  sickness. 
When  our  friends  or  our  children  are  stretched  on  beds  of 
suffering  and  death,  we  can  take  their  cases  to  God,  and  plead 
with  Him  in  their  behalf  at  the  Mercy  Seat.  We  must  not 
indeed  dream  that  our  prayers  (as  they  were  in  the  case  of 
the  Jewish  ruler)  must  necessarily  be  answered,  and  that  at 
our  earthly  bidding  a  miracle  should  follow.  This  would 
be  presumption,  not  faith ;  this  would  be  to  usurp  the 
Sovereignty  of  God — to  substitute  our  own  wisdom  for  His, 
— it  would  be  to  make  our  will  and  not  His  paramount.  If 
we  had  only  to  speak  and  it  was  accomplished,  it  would  make 
man  God,  and  degrade  God  to  the  level  of  man.  It  would  be 
to  dishonour  the  Almighty,  making  Him  the  servant  of  the 
creature — not  the  creature  waiting  on  in  loving  trustfulness 
as  the  servant  of  the  Creator.  *  Far,  far  better  is  it  for  the 

*  See  Robertson's  Sermons,  Second  Series,  p.  47* 


202  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAREH 

lowly  suppliant  to  endorse  every  petition  with  the  words, 
"Father,  not  my  will  but  thine  be  done." 

And  yet,  let  us  remember  for  our  comfort,  that  prayers  at 
a  death-bed  (apparently  unheard  and  unanswered)  are  not  in 
vain.  They  may  smooth  the  death  pillow.  They  may  re- 
move from  it  its  thorns,  and  put  the  promises  of  Christ  in 
their  stead.  They  may  lead  sorrowing  survivors  to  lowly 
resignation,  and  disarm  earthly  reflections  of  their  poignant 
sting.  Yes  !  forget  not  this,  when  seasons  cf  family  trial 
overtake  you — when  the  best  of  earthly  means  and  instru- 
mentality prove  inefficacious,  and  those  near  and  dear  to  you 
are  hovering  on  the  confines  of  the  grave.  Do  not  sit  down 
wringing  your  hands  in  despair,  as  if  Jehovah  were,  like  Baal, 
asleep  or  on  a  journey,  and  His  ear  deaf,  when  you  most  need 
His  intervention.  Arise,  call  upon  thy  God !  Plead  the 
assurance  that  if  in  accordance  with  that  better  will  and 
wisdom  ll  the  prayer  of  faith  SHALL  save  the  sick/' 

The  Patriarch  David  of  old,  is  a  rebuke  in  this  respect  to 
the  lack  of  faith  in  many  a  Christian  parent  now.  For  seven 
whole  days  was  he  stretched  on  the  bare  earth  importunate  for 
his  infant's  life,  '•'  Who  can  tell/'  said  he,  "whether  God  may 
be  gracious  to  me  that  my  child  may  live  ? "  Not  till  the 
little  spark  had  fled,  and  the  sad  accents  fell  on  his  ear,  "  Thy 
child  is  dead,"  did  the  prayer  melt  into  the  bright  hope  full 
of  immortality, — "  I  shall  go  to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return 
to-me!" 

IV.  Learn  the  nature  of  real  sorrow. 
He  who  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus  does  not  forbid  Tears. 
They  are  holy  things,  consecrated  by  Incarnate  tenderness. 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  203 

Let  the  world,  if  they  may,  condemn  it  as  unmanly  to  grieve, 
— or  worse,  let  them  seek  oblivion  for  their  trials  in  the  giddy 
round  of  its  pleasures  and  follies,  and  make  the  grave  of 
their  dead  as  soon  as  may  be  "  the  land  of  forgetfulness."  He 
encourages  no  such  cold  and  stern  stoicism.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  neither  does  He  countenance  overmuch  sorrow. 
True  Christian  grief  is  calm,  tranquil,  chastened.  The 
noisy,  wailing,  mimic  crowd  are  spurned  from  the  scene.  If 
they  had  been  the  tears  of  a  Martha  or  Mary,  He  would  have 
held  them  as  sacred; — but  being  the  hollow  echoes  of  un- 
feeling hearts,  He  says,  "  Give  place  ;  why  make  ye  this  ado 
and  weep  ?  " 

Jesus,  on  every  occasion  in  his  public  ministry,  stamps  with 
His  abhorrence  all  pretence.  He  dislikes  unreality,  what  is 
made  to  appear  gold  which  is  tinsel; — whether  it  be. simulated 
joy,  or  simulated  piety,  or  simulated  tears.  That  is  a  poor 
sorrow  which  expends  itself  in  funeral  trappings, — which  is 
measured  by  doleful  looks,  and  passionate  words,  and 
mourning  weeds.  True  grief  is  not  like  the  stream  which 
murmurs  and  frets  because  it  passes  over  a  shallow  bed; — 
that  which  is  deepest  makes  least  noise.  Inconsolable  sorrow 
is  unbecoming  the  Christian.  To  abandon  one's  self  to  sullen 
gloom,  moping  melancholy  and  discontent,  is  sadly  to  miss 
and  mistake  the  great  design  of  trial.  God  sends  it  to  wake 
us  up  to  a  sense  of  life's  realities — not  to  fold  our  hands,  but 
to  be  mere  in  earnest  than  ever  in  our  work  and  warfare. 
Oh  !  when  He  sees  meet  to  enter  our  households,  and,  as  the 
Great  Proprietor  of  life,  to  resume  His  own,  be  it  ours  to 
thank  Him  for  the  precious  loan,  to  acknowledge  His  right 
and  prerogative  to  recall  the  grant.  "The  Lord  loveth  a 


204  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

cheerful  giver."  Although  it  was  in  a  trial,  of  which,  God 
forbid  either  you  or  I  should  ever  know  the  bitterness,  I  know 
not  in  all  Scripture  a  more  touching  picture  of  this  silent 
acquiescence  in  God's  sovereign  will  than  we  have  in  the  case 
of  a  parent  who  had  seen  his  two  worthless  children  smitten 
down  before  his  eyes,  and  yet  of  whom  we  only  read  that 

"AAEON  HELD  HIS  PEACE/' 

V.  Finally,  let  us  learn  from  this  passage  that  Christ  is 
the  Great  Vanquisher  of  Death. 

Previously  we  have  traced  His  footsteps  of  mercy  and 
power  as  the  Healer  of  diseases — the  Saviour  of  the  body — 
the  Lord  of  nature — the  Ruler  of  the  Spirit.  We  have  seen 
Pain  crouching  importunate  at  His  feet ;  Penitence  creeping 
meekly  at  His  side  bedewing  Him  with  tears ;  Sickness  at 
His  summons  taking  wings  and  fleeing  away. 

But  now  he  has  reached  a  new  era  in  His  life  of  marvel. 
He  has  broken  the  withs  of  Death.  He  has  gathered  in  the 
first  sheaf  of  that  mighty  Harvest  of  life,  of  which  the  angels 
are  to  be  the  Reapers  in  the  Resurrection  morning. 

He  gives  us  here  a  comforting  assurance ;  first,  regarding 
the  Dying,  and  second,  regarding  the  Dead. 

(1.)  He  tells  us  regarding  every  death-bed — that  the 
thread  of  existence  is  in  His  hands — that  He  quickeneth 
and  restoreth  whom  He  will — that  unto  Him  as  "God  the 
Lord,  belong  the  issues  of  death." 

"Thy  daughter  is  dead;"  (said  bold  human  unbelief) 
"trouble  not  the  Master."  But  the  message  is  premature. 
He  has  inverted  the  sand  glass.  He  has  made  the  shadow 
as  in  Hezekiah/s  dial  to  go  back ! 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  205 

OL,  glorious  assurance!  Our  lives  and  the  lives  of  all  near 
and  dear  to  us  are  in  His  keeping.  It  is  He  who  sends  the 
angel  messenger.  It  is  He  who  marks  every  tree  in  the 
forest  —plucks  every  flower  in  the  garden.  My  health  and 
s:ckness,  iny  joys  and  sorrows,  my  friends,  my  children,  are 
in  the  hands  of  the  CHRIST  OF  CALVARY  !  "We,  in  our  blind 
unbelief,  may  regard  Death  as  some  arbitrary  Tyrant  lording 
it,  with  iron  sceptre,  over  hapless  victims.  But  the  Gospel 
teaches  a  nobler  philosophy.  It  tells  of  One  in  heaven  who 
has  in  His  hands  "the  keys  of  the  grave  and  of  death/'  and 
who,  at  the  time  He  sees  best,  but  not  one  moment  sooner, 
"turneth  man  to  destruction,  and  sayeth,  Return,  ye  children 
of  men ! " 

(2.)  He  gives  us  a  comforting  word  regarding  the  DEAD. 

Christian,  He  says  of  thy  dead  (the  dead  in  Christ),  "Be 
not  afraid,  only  believe."  "Weep  not;  she  is  not  dead,  but 
sleepeth."  Yea,  weep  not!  she  is  not  dead,  but  LIVETH! 

Death  is  but  a  quiet  sleep.  Soon  the  morning  hour  shall 
strike; — -the  waking  time  of  immortality  arrive,  and  the  voice 
of  Jesus  will  be  heard  saying, — "  I  go  that  I  may  awake  them 
out  of  sleep/' 

It  has  been  often  noted  that  there  is  a  beautiful  and 
striking  progression  in  our  Lord's  three  miraculous  raisings 
from  the  dead.*  This  instance,  we  have  been  considering, 
was  the  first  in  point  of  time.  The  daughter  of  Jairus  was 
raised  immediately  after  death  had  taken  place,  when  the  body 
was  still  laid  on  its  death -couch.  Her  soul  had  but  taken  its 
flight  to  the  spirit-world,  when  the  angels  that  bore  it  away 
were  summoned  to  restore  it.  The  second,  in  order  of  time, 

*  See  Olshausen,  Stier,  Trench,  and  others 


206  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

was  the  raising  of  the  son  of  the  widow  of  Nam.  Death 
had  in  this  case  achieved  a  longer  triumph.  The  wonted 
time  for  lamentation  had  intervened ; — he  was  being  borne  to 
his  last  home  when  the  voice  of  Deity  sounded  over  his  bier. 
The  third  and  last  of  this  class  of  miracles,  was  the  raising 
of  Lazarus  of  Bethany.  In  his  case,  death  had  attained  a 
still  more  signal  mastery.  The  funeral  obsequies  were  over; 
— the  sepulchral  grotto  held  in  its  embrace  their  loved  and 
lost; — four  days  had  these  lips  been  sealed  before  the  life- 
giving  and  life-restoring  word  was  uttered. 

There  is  one  other  gigantic  step  in  this  progression.  "  The 
hour  is  coming  when  they  that  are  in  their  graves  shall  hear 
the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  shall  come  forth." 

In  the  first  case  we  have  cited,  the  time  elapsing  between 
the  dismissal  of  the  spirit  and  its  recall,  was  measured  by 
moments,  the  second  by  hours,  the  third  by  days;  the 
fourth  is  measured  by  centuries — ages — MILLENNIUMS  !  But 
what  of  that  ?  Yfhat  though  we  speak  of  the  tomb  as  the 
"long  home/'  and  death  as  the  long  sleep?  By  Him  (with 
whom  a  thousand  years  is  as  one  day)  that  precious, 
because  redeemed  dust,  shall  be  gathered  together,  particle 
by  particle.  "  I  will  ransom  them,"  says  He,  as  he  looks  for- 
ward through  the  vista  of  ages  to  this  glorious  consum- 
mation— "  I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the  grave; 
I  will  redeem  them  from  death.  0  !  death,  I  ivill  be  thy 
plagues :  0  !  grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction"  Blessed, 
thrice  blessed  time!  As  in  the  case  of  Jairus,  it  was  his 
own  loved  daughter  who,  in  form  and  feature,  was  again 
restored  :  as  the  widow  of  Nain  gazed  on  the  unaltered 
countenance  of  her  own  cherished  boy:  as  the  sisters  of 


THE  ONLY  DAUGHTER.  207 

Lazarus  saw  in  him  who  came  forth  from  the  grave,  no  alien 
form  strangely  altered,  but  the  Brother  of  their  hearts, — so, 
we  believe"  on  that  wondrous  Morning  of  immortality,  shall 
the  loved  on  earth  wear  their  old  familiar  smiles  and  loving 
looks.  They  shall  retain  their  personal  identity.  Nay,  further, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  daughter  in  the  text,  her  Parents 
received  her  once  more  into  their  arms ; — as  in  the  case  of 
the  widow's  son,  it  is  expressly  said,  "  they  delivered  him  to 
his  MOTHER;" — as 'in  Bethany,  we  are  allowed  to  look  into 
the  home  circle  again  reunited,  Jesus  once  more  loving 
"  Martha,  and  Mary,  and  Lazarus/'  and  they  loving  one 
another — so  may  we  believe  that,  on  the  Resurrection  day, 
the  affections  which  hallowed  homesteads  on  earth,  shall  not 
be  dulled,  quenched,  annihilated,  but  rather  ennobled  and 
purified.  Brothers,  sisters,  parents,  children,  shall  be  linked 
once  more  in  the  fond  ties  and  memories  of  earth,  gathering 
in  loving  groups  around  the  living  fountains  of  waters,  and 
singing  together  the  twofold  anthem  of  Providence  and 
Grace — "  the  song  of  Moses,  the  servant  of  God,  and  the  song 
of  the  Lamb!" 

If  we  descend  for  a  moment  from  these  lofty  contempla- 
tions, it  is  to  utter  a  brief  word,  in  conclusion,  to  those  who 
know  nothing  of  such  glorious  hopes — who  are  locked  in  the 
slumbers  of  a  far  sadder  Death.  Yes  !  there  is  a  more  dread- 
ful sleep — a  more  dreadful  death — than  that  of  the  Grave ! 
They  are  rather  to  be  envied  who  have  "fallen  asleep  "(or  as 
the  word  means)  who  have  been  "  laid  asleep  by  Jesus." 
Faith,  in  her  noblest  musings,  would  not  weep  them  back 
from  their  crowns,  and  denude  them  of  their  bliss !  But 
they  are  to  be  pitied  who  are  still  slumbering  on  in  the  deep 


208  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

sepulchral  stillness  of  spiritual  death — that  death  from  which 
there  can  only  be,  a  waking  up  in  anguish !  With  deep 
solemnity  would  I  say,  "  Awake  thou  that  steepest,  "and  arise 
from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  life!" 

When  we  are  called,  as  at  times  we  are,  to  hear  of  death- 
beds in  every  phase  of  life — in  every  stage  of  the  chequered 
journey ; — manhood  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf — youth  in  its 
prime — childhood  in  its  innocence — infancy  in  its  tenderest 
bud ;  or  when  these  truths  come  home  to  us  as  arrows 
feathered  from  our  own  bosoms — solemn  thoughts  welling 
up  from  the  very  deeps  of  our  being  ;  I  know  not  what  will 
make  a  man  in  earnest  if  such  impressive  lessons  fail  to  do 
so !  Reader !  If  God  were  to  meet  you  to-night,  could  you 
meet  HIM  ?  Would  you  be  ready  for  the  Opened  Books  and 
the  Great  Assize?  Nothing — nothing  will  be  of  any  avail 
at  that  hour,  but  the  life  of  faith  in  th.  So  .  of  God;  not  the 
wretched  peradventure  of  a  death-bed  repentance,  but  an 
honest,  loving,  cordial  closing  NOW,  with  that  great  Salvation. 

It  is  but  a  slender  thread  that  binds  us  to  existence ;  every 
moment,  "Verily  there  is  but  a  step  between  us  and  death/' 
Oh,  that  we  may  so  live,  that  that  step  may  be  regarded  as 
a  step  between  us  and  Glory ;  and  that,  when  the  final  sum- 
mons comes,  it  may  be  to  us — what  weeping  friends  cannot 
see — the  Chariots  of  Salvation  and  the  Horses  of  fire,  waiting 
to  bear  us  to  Paradise  1 


XIII. 

ICHJe  of 


"  There  are  in  this  loud  stunning  tide 

Of  human  care  and  crime, 
With  whom  the  melodies  abide 

Of  th'  everlasting  chime ; 
Who  carry  music  in  their  heart, 
Through  dusky  lane  and  wrangling  mart, 
Plying  their  daily  task  with  busier  feet, 
Because  their  secret  souls  a  holy  strain  repeat." 

"  And  after  these  things  he  went  forth,  and  saw  a  publican,  named  Levi,  sitting 
at  the  receipt  of  custom :  and  he  said  unto  him,  Follow  me.  And  he  left  all,  rose 
up,  and  followed  Mm."— LUKK  v.  27,  32;  MATT.  ix.  9, 10 ;  MARK  ii.  U. 


211 


THE  LIFE  OP  SACRIFICE. 

WE  cannot  be  sure  what  precise  chronological  place  among 
the  Memories  of  GENNESAKET  the  calling  of  St  Mat  (Ley/ 
should  occupy.  But  we  cannot  be  far  wrong  in  considering 
it  as  having  occurred  in  immediate  connexion  with  the  inci- 
dents on  which  we  have  been  recently  dwelling. 

Of  the  previous  personal  history  of  the  future  Evangelist 
we  know  nothing.  But  a  flood  of  light  is  thrown  upon  his 
character,  and  the  position  he  occupied  in  Capernaum,  by  the 
worldly  profession  from  which  he  was  taken  to  be  a  Follower 
and  Apostle  of  Jesus. 

If  any  one  name  or  class  was  more  hated  than  another 
among  the  Jews,  it  was  that  of  the  Publicans.  These,  as  is 
well  known,  were  the  collectors  of  the  impost  laid  on  the 
Jewish  nation  by  the  foreign  power  by  which  they  were  sub- 
jugated. The  impatience  of  the  Hebrews  under  the  Roman 
yoke  rendered  taxation  in  any  shape  peculiarly  offensive. 
The  odium  of  the  public  burdens  themselves,  came  to  be 
shared  by  the  officers  who  exacted  them,  so  much  so,  that  it 
was  only  the  more  degraded  among  their  countrymen  who 
could  be  found  willing  to  accept  pay  and  place,  reckoned  at 
once  servile  and  degrading.  It  was  written  in  their  law 
(Dent.  xvii.  15),  "Thou  mayest  not  set  a  stranger  over  tliee 
which  is  not  thy  Irother."  The  Hebrew  that  would  stoop  to 
collect  these  revenues  (badges  of  national  dishonour),  was 


212  MEMORIES  OF  GENNE8ARET. 

considered  guilty  of  an  infraction  of  their  sacred  code, — 
denounced  as  having  done  homage  to  an  alien  and  heathen 
master. 

There  are  never  wanting,  however,  in  any  community,  mean- 
souled,  covetous  men, — men  of  iron  will  by  nature,  and  that 
indurated  by  practice,  who  will  venture,  at  any  risk,  to  brave 
public  opinion,  and  stoop  to  have  their  mammon-spirit  gra- 
tified. The  office  of  Publican  was  an  easy  road  to  emolument ; 
and  a  man  destitute  of  self-respect,  who  was  reckless  about 
losing  his  character,  or  rather  who  had  no  character  to  lose, 
would  not  be  scrupulous  in  accepting  this  lucrative  office  under 
Caesar.  Th&  farming  of  these  taxes,  moreover,  afforded  the 
publicans  additional  opportunities  for  indulging  in  tyrannical 
exaction  and  fraud.  Any  appeal  from  their  overcharges  was 
carried  to  a  Roman  tribunal,  where  the  case  was  often  pre- 
judged, and  the  chance  of  redress  rendered  wellnigh  hope- 
less. The  civil  rulers  never  deemed  it  politic  to  encourage 
resistance  to  their  subordinate  officers.  Thus  Might  too  often 
triumphed  over  Right ;  while  the  appellants,  in  anticipa- 
tion of  an  adverse  decision,  could  readily  disarm  the  hostility 
of  the  tax-gatherer  by  means  of  a  secret  bribe.  The  code  of 
morality  among  the  Publicans,  •  you  can  thus  see  at  once, 
was  that  of  the  lowest  description.  We  cease  to  wonder  at 
the  disgust  in  which  they  were  held  by  the  rest  of  the  popu- 
lation. The  severest  thing  a  proud  Pharisee  could  say  was, 
"God,  I  thank  thee  I  am  not  as  this  Publican."  The 
daughters  of  Israel  scorned  alliance  with  them  in  marriage. 
Their  testimony  was  not  received  at  the  civil  tribunals.  It 
was  a  common  saying  among  the  Jews,  "  that  vows  made  to 
thieves,  murderers,  and  PUBLICANS,  might  be  broken/'  and 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  213 

when  our  Lord  himself  .spake  of  an  incorrigible  offender,  one 
who,  from  persistence  in  wrong-doing,  was  to  be  excommuni- 
cated from  the  Church,  He  says,  "  Let  him  be  to  thee  as  an 
heathen  man  and  a  PUBLICAN/' 

There  may  have  been  exceptions,  indeed,  among  the  class 
we  are  speaking  of, — individuals  of  nobler  parts,  who  were 
not  so  unscrupulous  and  overreaching  as  others.  We  have 
nothing,  however,  to  entitle  us  to  consider  LEVI  (or  Matthew) 
in  any  more  favourable  light  than  as  an  average  specimen  of 
his  calling.  His  toll  for  impost  or  "receipt  of  custom"  seems 
to  have  been  at  the  port  of  Capernaum.  There  he  was  seated 
when  Jesus  met  him,  receiving  dues,  probably  on  the  timber 
that  was  floated  from  the  northern  and  eastern  part  of  the 
Lake,  or  on  more  valuable  mercantile  commodities  on  their 
way  south  to  the  seaport  of  Ptolemais,  from  the  markets  of 
Damascus  and  the  other  towns  of  Syria. 

The  question  is  one  of  no  great  importance  whether  the 
calling  and  conversion  of  the  first  Evangelist  was  sudden,  or 
whether  it  had  been  preceded  by  processes  of  anxious  thought, 
— severe  mental  and  spiritual  struggles. 

Most  probably  the  latter.  Though  we  never  dare  limit  the 
omnipotence  and  sovereignty  of  Divine  grace,  it  seems  more 
in  accordance  with  God's  wonted  dealings,  and  the  analogy 
in  His  other  works,  to  connect  the  great  moral  change  known 
as  conversion,  with  certain  means  and  instrumentality;  not 
making  it  the  offspring  of  blind,  unreasoning  impulse.  Who 
can  tell,  that,  though  unknown  to  his  fellow  tax-gatherers  or 
to  the  thronging  crowds  which  rudely  jostled  and  wrangled 
around  his  place  of  business,  there  had  been  for  long  a 
silent,  secret,  unnoticed  work  going  on  in  that  man's  soul ! 


214  MEMORIES  Oif  GENNESAEET. 

For  days — for  weeks — conscience  may  have  been  speaking ; 
the  thought  of  a  debased  moral  nature,  grasping  avarice,  illicit 
gains,  may  have  been  disturbing  his  peace  by  day,  and  his 
dreams  by  night.  He  may,  long  ere  this,  have  been  an  auditor 
of  the  discourses  of  the  Great  Prophet,  and  a  witness  of  His 
miracles.  He  may  have  listened  to  some  of  those  Divine 
lessons  in  which  a  lofty  morality  had  been  inculcated,  to 
which  he,  alas  !  had  long  been  a  stranger.  How  terribly 
would  his  whole  life  stand  rebuked  by  the  utterance  of  these 
golden  words — they  may  have  gone  like  a  barbed  arrow  into 
his  soul — "Do  to  others  as  ye  would  that  they  should  do  unto 
you:"  "Love  ye  your  enemies,  and  do  good,  and  lend, 
hoping  for  nothing  again,  and  ye  shall  be  the  children  of 
the  Highest."  As  another  Publican,  at  a  later  date,  swung 
himself  on  the  branch  of  a  sycamore  tree  to  attract  the 
notice  of  the  Holy  Teacher,  so  may  this  officer  of  Caper- 
naum have  followed  the  crowd  of  stragglers  to  the  Mount  of 
Beatitudes,  or  heard,  amid  the  pauses  of  traffic,  some  gracious 
words  which  sank  into  his  soul,  and  stirred  the  deeps  of  his 
being. 

Who  can  picture  the  conflict  that  may  have  ensued  between 
nature  and  grace,  principle  and  conscience,  mammon  and 
God  ?  He  may  have  long  felt  the  heavenly  impulse  before 
he  dared  to  avow  it; — a  desire  to  renounce  his  sinful  and  frau- 
dulent ways;  but  the  old  arguments,  "My  subsistence,  my 
gains,  my  family,"  crushed  and  smothered  better  thoughts. 
He  may  have  been  for  long  what  the  old  writers  call  "a 
Borderer"  wavering  and  hovering  on  the  confines  of  light 
and  darkness;  the  pendulum  vibrating  between  two  worlds! 
But  INCAENATE  TEUTK  confronts  him,  and  the  whole  lie  of 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  215 

his  former  being  melts  before  the  rays  of  that  Glorious  Sun. 
Jesus  comes,  sees  him,  and  by  an  omnipotent  word  and  look, 
conquers!  Joined  to  the  Son  of  God  and  Saviour  of  the 
world  by  this  outward  act  and  inward  principle  of  life  and 
love,  he  has  become  "anew  creature;" — ''All  old  things  have 
passed  away,  and  all  things  have  become  new." 

The  same  great  change  must  take  place  with  regard  to  all 
of  us  before  we  can  enter  the  kingdom  of  God.  There  must 
be  a  leaving  behind  us  of  all  that  is  of  the  earth  earthy,  and 
a  cleaving  with  full  purpose  of  heart  to  the  Lord  who  died 
for  us.  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves  with  the  thought  that 
some  external  profession — acting  up  to  some  conventional 
standard  of  religion  recognised  by  the  community  in  which 
we  dwell — Sabbath  forms  of  devotion  and  weekly  woiidliness 
— will  save  us,  and  stand  us  instead  of  saving  conversion. 
Much  less,  that  some  fond  dreams  of  future  amendment  will 
exempt  us  from  the  need  of  present  repentance  and  crucifixion 
of  sin  in  the  heart  and  life.  Let  us  remember  the  words  of 
Him  who  never  made  one  hard  exaction,  or  imposed  one  un- 
necessary burden — "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me." 
If  any  are  disposed  to  feel  that  such  denial  is  unreasonable, 
if  not  impossible,  come  with  us  to  the  Port  of  Capernaum; 
and  as  we  gaze  on  that  scene  of  worldly  traffic,  and  hear 
a  voice  in  the  midst  of  it,  saying,  "  Follow  me,"  lot  us 
endeavour  to  weigh  well  all  that  is  comprehended  in  the 
willing  response — when  Matthew  "  left  all,  rose  up,  and  fol- 
lowed Jesus" 

We  might  examine  the  conduct  of  Matthew  from  many 


216  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

points  of  view,  but  we  shall  illustrate  it,  at  present,  under 
one  aspect,  (an  aspect  which  the  Church  in  modern  times  may 
do  well  to  ponder),  viz.,  as  A  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE. 

I.    The  conversion  of  Matthew  involved  A  SACRIFICE  OF 

THE  WOULD. 

A  pecuniary  sacrifice  is  all  the  greater  if  the  man  who 
mak^s  it  is  naturally  avaricious  and  covetous.  We  can  quite 
well  imagine  an  individual  who  is  happily  exempt  from  the 
passion  of  money-making,  counting  it  no  great  hardship  to 
take  some  step  involving  a  diminution  in  earthly  gain.  But 
it  is  no  small  struggle  with  him  who  has,  from  youth  up,  been 
a  cringing  worshipper  of  mammon,  to  cast  the  hoarded  trea- 
sure from  his  grasp,  and  throw  himself  penniless  on  the 
world. 

Such  was  the  case  with  Matthew.  If  he  had  not  been 
naturally  a  covetous  man,  the  chances  are  all  against  his 
being  found  seated  at  the  custom-house  of  Capernaum. 
Moreover,  that  this  particular  "  receipt  of  custom"  was  a  lucra- 
tive one,  is  further  evinced  by  the  fact,  that  he  was  able,  on 
quitting  it  for  ever,  to  make  a  sumptuous  feast  for  his  friends 
and  former  associates.  It  was  different  with  him  in  this  re- 
spect from  the  other  apostles.  Fishermen  on  the  lake — their 
sole  riches  consisted  in  a  joint  fishing-vessel  with  its  tackle, 
and  the  precarious  gains  of  their  daily  toil.  What  a  test  of 
his  sincerity — that  he  was  swayed  by  some  mighty  principle 
superior  to  nature — that  in  one  moment  he  was  able  to  sur- 
render at  his  Lord's  bidding  his  golden  prize,  and  cast  in  his 
lot  with  the  despised  and  homeless  Saviour  of  Galilee.  Yes ;  the 
world  might  not  have  wondered  that  he  thus  left  his  original 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  21  7 

calling  had  there  been  some  carnal  and  lucrative  equivalent 
held  out  in  the  other.  But  it  was  all  the  reverse.  That 
Saviour  had  taken  care  to  undeceive  every  adherent  who 
clung  to  hopes  of  worldly  advancement — "  The  foxes  hare 
holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man 
hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head."  Yet,  with  this  prospect  of 
poverty — disgrace — contempt — the  Publican  willingly  re- 
nounced his  earthly  all.  At  the  very  moment  his  coffers  are 
filling,  behind  the  pressing  crowd  around  his  tribute  table,  he 
sees  a  Divine  countenance,  and  listens  to  a  Divine  call.  The 
glittering  coin — the  idol  of  his  life — was  in  a  moment  for- 
saken ;  that  loving  look,  that  cogent  word,  are  more  to  him  than 
"  thousands  of  gold  and  silver/'  and  waiting  not  to  count  the 
cost,  or  debate  the  expediency,  he  threw  in  his  lot  with  the 
Prophet  of  Nazareth. 

What  an  example  for  us  !  Are  we  willing  to  make  similar 
sacrifices  for  the  glory  of  God's  name?  Ah !  rather,  how  poor, 
and  feeble,  and  inadequate  are  our  most  self-denying  efforts 
when  compared  with  those  of  this  Hebrew  tax-gatherer.  He 
left  his  all; — gave  God  his  best,  and  kept  the  remnants  to 
himself.  We  give  God  our  remnants,  and  keep  our  best  to 
ourselves.  He  left  his  worldly  gain  at  Christ's  bidding; — 
what  have  we  left  ?  what  have  we  sacrificed  ?  What  mites 
have  we  thrown  into  his  treasury  !  Often  only  the  crumbs 
and  sweepings  of  guilty  extravagance.  Would  that  every 
believer — every  member  of  the  Christian  priesthood — would 
come  to  consider  his  possessions,  his  houses  and  lands,  his 
wealth,  his  money,  not  as  a  mere  property  to  be  selfishly  used, 
but  as  a  talent  to  be  employed  for  the  good  of  man  and  the 
glory  of  God, — a  trust  committed  to  his  charge  by  God  and 


218  MEMORIES  GF  GENNESARET. 

for  God,  and  in  respect  of  which  his  stewardship  will  at  last 
be  rigidly  scrutinised.  It  may  seem  to  the  carnal,  worldly 
mind  a  hard  saying — who  can  bear  it  ? — to  leave  ALL  and 
follow  the  Saviour.  But  who  that  has  pondered  the  story  of 
Redeeming  love,  can  call  aught  unreasonable  that  Lord  re- 
quires ?  Glance  upwards  to  Him  who  thus  demands  the 
surrender,  and  remember  how  willingly  and  cheerfully  He 
left  His  all  for  us!  The  noblest  instance  of  renunciation  on 
the  part  of  His  people  is  but  a  mere  shadow — dust  in  the 
balance — in  comparison  with  that  self-sacrificing  love  which 
exchanged  a  Throne  for  a  manger — a  Crown  for  a  cross. 
How  does  that  noble  appeal  of  the  Great  Apostle  make  all 
the  sacrifices  of  man  pale  into  nothingness  like  the  rushlight 
before  the  sun — "  Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  who, 
though  he  were  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that 
ye  through  his  poverty  might  be  made  rich  " 

II.  We  have  just  now  spoken  of  Matthew's  sacrifice  of  the 
World  ;  there  was  another  still  greater  sacrifice  he  proved  by 
his  deeds  he  was  willing  to  make — THE  SACRIFICE  or  SELF. 

The  unpretentious,  unboastful,  unostentatious  spirit  of  this 
Israelite  is  beautifully  exemplified  by  one  or  two  almost  un- 
noticed touches  in  the  inspired  records.  As  if  covered  with 
shame  and  confusion  at  the  remembrance  of  the  past,  he 
seems  anxious  to  utter  no  word  which  would  go  to  magnify 
himself,  or  exalt  his  own  character  and  doings. 

While  other  Evangelists  speak  of  a  "Great  Feast "  he 
made,  and  to  which  he  invited  Jesus,  he  says  nothing  as 
to  its  greatness  in  his  own  Gospel — all  the  reference  he 
makes  to  it  is,  "Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the  house."  While 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  219 

Luke  speaks  of  it  as  his  own  house,  he  leaves  the  particular 
house  indefinite. 

Again,  in  speaking  of  forsaking  his  calling  at  the  bidding 
of  his  Saviour,  while  St  Luke  speaks  of  him  as  leaving  "  all " 
and  following,  he  himself  omits  the  words  "  Left  ALL."  But 
for  the  fidelity  of  his  brother  Evangelist  the  amount  of  his 
self-sacrifice  would  have  been  left  unrecorded.  He  is  content 
with  the  more  modest  entry,  "He  rose  and  followed." 

The  other  Evangelists,  in  classifying  the  Apostles,  two  and 
two.  give  him  the  precedence  of  Thomas  ;  he  reverses  the 
order,  Thomas  first,  himself  last. 

While  the  others  put  a  becoming  veil  over  his  former  life 
by  inserting  his  other  name  (Levi),  he  has  no  such  scruple, 
but  adopts  the  old  title  with  the  unenviable  notoriety  it  had 
on  the  shores  of  Gennesaret.  Nay,  more,  if  you  consult  his 
list  of  the  apostleship,and  compare  it  with  the  others,  he  would 
seem  desirous  to  hide  from  view  all  in  himself  that  was  praise- 
worthy, and  to  magnify  the  grace  of  God  in  his  conver- 
sion, by  bringing  into  prominence  all  that  was  blameworthy 
In  the  list  of  Apostles  given  by  his  fellow  Evangelists  there  is 
no  account  given  of  their  respective  worldly  callings,  but  he 
makes  in  his  own  case  and  name  a  strange  exception — he  styles 
and  subscribes  himself,  "  Matthew,  THE  PUBLICAN."  Oh,  how 
unlike  self  and  self-love  is  all  this  I  When  a  man  has  com- 
mitted some  great  fault  in  his  past  life, — when  there  is  some 
scar  in  his  history,  how  careful  is  he  to  hide  it  from  the  world, 
or  if  this  he  cannot  do,  to  palliate  and  extenuate  his  conduct 
as  best  he  can.  A  bankrupt  cares  not  to  speak  of  his  insol- 
vency. Whether  it  be  his  misfortune  or  his  crime,  it  is  a  pro- 
scribed, and  shunned,  and  forbidden  theme.  But  Matthew,  as 

«:B~A3S& 


220  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

a  converted  man,  would  have  others  to  know  what  the  grace 
of  God  had  done  in  his  behalf.  As  the  lights  of  a  picture  have 
a  value  and  strength  given  to  them  by  the  disposition  of 
shadow,  he  brings  into  prominence  the  shades  in  his  past 
spiritual  life  to  give  power  to  that  light  which  had  "  shined 
into  his  heart/'  even  "  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ/'  In  writing  his 
Gospel — that  sacred  record  which  was  to  be  read  by  millions 
on  millions — what  an  opportunity,  had  -self  been  paramount, 
of  displaying  his  own  character  to  the  best  advantage.  But 
the  whole  narrative  of  his  conversion  is  there  merely  inci- 
dental. It  is  hidden  among  a  crowd  of  other  sacred  facts. 
What  of  all  he  recorded  could  have  made  such  an  indelible 
impression  on  his  own  mind, — what  memory  half  so  hal- 
lowed or  momentous,  as  when  his  Lord,  in  ineffable  love,  stood 
confronting  his  custom-house,  and  gave  that  never-to-be- 
forgotten  word,  whose  echoes  to  his  latest  hour  were  ringing 
in  his  ears — the  "  Follow  me  " — which  was  henceforth  to  be 
his  motto  for  all  time  ?  Yet  where  would  we  discover,  in 
reading  the  account  in  Matthew,  that  the  narrator  of  the 
event  was  the  veritable  Publican  at  the  Port  of  Gennesaret  ? 
He  gives  it  no  undue  prominence.  His  passing  reference  to 
it  is  to  exalt  not  himself,  but  Him  who  is  "  the  chief  among 
ten  thousand/'  The  selfish  man,  in  rearing  this  monument 
to  be  read  by  future  ages,  would  have  done  his  utmost  to 
magnify  his  own  deeds,  exalt  his  own  sacrifices,  and  hide 
the  dark  blemishes  in  his  previous  life.  But,  when  that 
inspired  monument  is  reared — on  the  four  sides  of  which 
each  Evangelist  inscribes  the  record  of  our  Lord's  ministry — 
see  how  the  three  others  carefully  obliterate  all  memory  of 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  221 

their  brother's  former  life,  and  seek  to  give  due  prominence 
to  his  generosity  and  self-sacrifice — whilst  ne  himself,  in 
giving  his  version  of  the  great  Gospel  story,  puts  all  his  own 
goodness  in  the  shade ;  and,  as  we  seek  the  sculptor's  name 
amid  the  letters  he  has  chiselled,  we  find  it  thus  entered  amid 
the  glorious  company  of  Apostles  —  "Simon  who  is  called 
Peter,  and  Andrew  his  brother ;  James  the  son  of  Zebedee, 
and  John  his  brother ;  Philip,  and  Bartholomew ;  Thomas, 
and  MATTHEW  THE  PUBLICAN  ! "  * 

III.  We  have  still  another  instance  of  sacrifice  in  the  case 
of  Matthew — the  sacrifice  of  a  class  of  feelings  that  had  a 
more  special  reference  to  HIS  KELATION  TO  OTHERS. 

When  one  who  has  previously  led  a  godless  life  comes 
under  serious  impressions — when  the  great  Gospel  change 
operates  on  his  conscience,  and  he  becomes  a  converted  man, 
— not  the  smallest  part  often  of  the  struggle  through  which 
he  passes,  is  the  ridicule  to  which  he  has  exposed  himself  at 
the  hand  of  his  former  companions.  "  I  would  willingly," 
is  the  musing  of  many,  "become  religious — live  a  life  of 
piety  and  prayer.  But  what  would  my  associates  think  of 
me  ? — my  companions  in  daily  life — my  brothers — my  kins- 
men— my  neighbours  in  the  counting-room — my  helpmates 
and  coadjutors  at  the  receipt  of  custom  ?  I  could  bear  any- 
thing, and  brook  anything  but  these  scoffing  sneers.  I 
would  boldly  make  the  avowal  which  conscience  prompts ; 
but  I  dare  not  breast  that  sweeping  current  of  ridicule  which 
I  know  too  well  must  needs  be  encountered/' 

•  See  a  Discourse  on  this  subject,  preached  on  the  occasion  of  the  funeral  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Melvill. 


222  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Or,  to  avoid  this,  how  often  do  we  see  the  newly  awakened 
and  regenerated  soul  adopting  another  alternative — (it  was 
the  unhappy  expedient  of  Christians  of  the  earlier  ages) — 
rushing  from  the  world  into  solitude — escaping  cold,  repul- 
sive, unsympathising  looks  and  words  from  those  with  whom 
they  formerly  associated,  by  a  morbid  abandonment  of  life's 
duties  and  responsibilities. 

Now,  at  first  sight,  there  may  be  something  to  admire  in 
the  apparent  boldness  and  unworldliness  of  such  resolves. 
An  air  of  saintliness  gathers  around  these  hermit-spirits. 
They  seem  to  have  surrendered  much  for  God  and  heaven. 
A  spurious  sentimental  piety  would  speak  of  them  as  living 
and  moving  in'another  atmosphere  than  ours,  and  forbid  us 
lightly  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  their  religious  seclusion. 

"  Those  hermits  blest  and  holy  maids, 

The  nearest  heaven  on  earth 
Who  talk  with  God  in  shadowy  glades, 

Free  from  rude  care  and  mirth ; 
To  whom  some  viewless  teacher  brings 
The  secret  love  of  rural  things, 
The  moral  of  each  fleeting  cloud  and  gale, 
The  whispers  from  above  that  haunt  the  twilight  Vale." 

KEBLB. 

But,  say  #s  we  will,  this  is  the  romance  of  religious  life — 
not  its  reality.  Far  nobler — far  more  self-sacrificing — is  the 
conduct  of  the  man,  who,  like  Matthew,  after  forming  his 
resolution  to  leave  all  and  follow  a  despised  Master,  will  con- 
gregate together  at  a  great  Feast  his  old  companions — his 
fellows  in  trade — his  former  confederates  in  fraud — and 
disclosing  to  them  boldly  his  own  change  of  principles; 
seek  to  make  them  partakers  of  the  same  liberty  with  which 
lie  himself  has  been  made  free.  We  believe  if  Matthew  had 


THE  LIFE  OP  SACRIFICE.  223 

now  acted  as  his  own  natural  feelings  would  ha.ve  dictated, 
he  would  have  shut  himself  up  in  his  dwelling,  shunned  his 
former  associates,  and  waited  anxiously  for  the  next  Pass- 
over, that  he  might  follow  his  Lord  to  Jerusalem,  and  leave 
Galilee  and  Capernaum  for  ever  !  But,  with  conduct  worthy 
of  a  hero,  he  will  not  leave  his  post — he  will  not  leave  his 
city,  until  he  takes  a  graceful  method  of  bidding  his  acquaint- 
ances farewell,  and  of  giving  them  an  opportunity  of  hearing 
from  the  lips  of  his  Lord  those  words  which  had  spoken 
peace  and  joy  to  his  own  soul ! 

Yes,  there  was  sacrifice  here — the  bold  sacrifice  of  a  man 
fearless  of  all  misconstructions.  If  he  had  been  the  slave  of 
the  dread  of  these,  he  might  have  thought  to  himself — 
"  Will  not  this  fatally  damage  me  in  the  eyes  of  my  future 
companions  ? — will  not  Christ  and  his  disciples,  if  they  see 
me  in  such  company,  denounce  me  as  worldly  and  incon- 
sistent ?  Will  they  not  say,  That  man  pretends  to  be  one 
of  us — pretends  to  have  made  great  sacrifices  and  renuncia- 
tions, but  his  soul  is  clinging  to  the  dust  as  before?  He 
seemed  to  have  forsaken  all — but  his  house  and  halls  are 
open,  as  ever  they  were,  to  the  unworthy  and  depraved." 

He  heeded  not  such  possible  insinuations.  He  felt,  ere  he 
quitted  the  c'ty  of  his  birth  or  his  sojourn,  that  he  owed  a 
great  duty  to  those  who  had  been  for  years  his  friends  and 
intimates.  He  was  in  future  to  be  honoured  as  an  Apostle 
in  carrying  the  Gospel-message  to  distant  tribes  ;  but,  in  the 
true  spirit  of  Christianity,  he  will  first  begin  at  home.  All 
unkindred  and  uncongenial  though  they  now  be  in  sen- 
timent and  feeling,  he  will  leaven  his  old  associates  at 
Capernaum,  before  he  goes  forth,  either  by  pen  or  voice,  to 


224  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET 

evangelise  the  world.  He  was  acting  up  to  the  injunction 
our  Blessed  Lord  gave  subsequently  to  another  Apostle — 
"  When  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy  brethren." 

Are  there  any  of  us  who,  like  Matthew,  have  been  brought 

•>  o 

out  of  darkness  into  the  marvellous  light  of  the  Gospel  V 
Have  we  still  some  old  companions  at  our  "receipt  of 
custom,"  those  with  whom  we  have  been  long  brought  into 
contact,  but  who  are  still- without  God? — perhaps  associates 
in  our  former  guilt,  ruined  by  our  former  example.  We 
owe  them  a  heavy  debt  of  Christian  love !  It  becomes  us  to 
strive  to  do  what  best  we  can,  while  we  have  opportunity, 
for  their  souls'  salvation.  It  may  be  a  hard  matter ;  it  may 
need  a  bold  heart  to  do  it ;  but  what  might  not  many  a  young 
man,  many  a  youthful  soldier  of  the  cross,  effect,  with  the 
glory  of  God  as  the  great  aim  of  his  life  ;  how  much  might 
he  not  effect  at  his  place  of  business  on  those  seated  with 
him  at  the  same  desk,  or  standing  behind  the  same  counter, 
or  plying  the  same  worldly  calling, — teaching  them  to  sanctify 
and  hallow  their  worldly  work  with  great  religious  motives, 
and  to  interweave  diligence  in  business  with  fervency  ot 
spirit,  "serving  the  Lord!" 

IV.  The  last  illustration  of  the  Spirit  of  sacrifice  on  the 
part  of  Matthew  (though  not,  of  course,  specified  in  any  of  the 
passages  which  head  this  chapter)  was  THE  SACRIFICE  OF  LIFE. 

We  know  little  of  the  future  of  this  Apostle,  but  what  we 
do  know,  is  all  in  accordance  with  the  antecedents  on  which 
we  have  now  been  commenting.  After  spending  eight  years 
in  Judea,  during  which  time  his  memorable  Gospel  was 
written,  he  went  (according  to  the  statements  of  early  eccle- 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE.  225 

siastical  writers)  on  his  apostolic  mission  and  labours  to 
Africa.  Through  him  Ethiopia  first  "stretched  out  her 
hands  unto  God/'  But  en  that  virgin  soil  too,  the  blood 
of  this  faithful  Galilean  \\a>  spilt — by  a  violent  death  for 
his  blessed  Master's  sake,  he  set  the  most  impressive  of  seals 
to  his  sincerity.  The  World,  Self,  Friends,  Home,  Country, 
and  now  Life  itself,  were  freely  surrendered  at  the  bidding  of 
his  great  Lord. 

From  first  to  last,  indeed,  his  was  a  noble  specimen  of  an 
entire  and  unqualified  sacrifice.  The  other  disciples  seem, 
after  entering  on  the  apcstleship,  still  to  have  retained  their 
boats  and  nets.  We  still  meet  Peter  and  John,  Andrew  and 
James,  as  Fishermen  on  the  Sea  of  Tiberias ;  but  Matthew 
we  never  find  again  at  his  former  calling.  If  we  visit  in 
thought  the  port  of  Capernaum,  a  new  Collector  is  seated 
at  the  Booth  of  impost — a  new  tenant  occupies  the  scene 
of  the  strange  farewell  feast.  The  Fishermen  could  go 
back  with  safety  and  impunity  to  their  daily  occupation, 
for  it  was  a  lawful  one — rid  of  all  temptation  to  fraud 
and  unworthy  dealing.  But  it  was  different  with  the 
Publican.  Eeturn  to  the  old  resort  might  have  been 
perilous.  The  old  fires  of  covetousness  might  have  been 
rekindled ;  drawn  within  the  perilous  vortex  he  might  have 
made  shipwreck  of  faith  and  of  a  good  conscience,  and 
proved  another  Demas  loving  the  present  world  and  for- 
saking Christ.  He  seems  purposely  to  shun  Galilee ;  and 
even  when  the  other  disciples  return  to  it  for  a  season,  he 
cleaves  to  his  adopted  home  in  Judea.  After  the  Saviour's 
resurrection  we  have  the  names  of  the  apostolic  band  enu- 
merated only  twice ;  on  the  first  occasion,  when  Jesus  met 

P 


226  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

them  on  the  shores  of  Gennesaret — the  name  of  Matthew 
is  NOT  there;  on  the  second,  when  they  are  gathered  in  "  the 
upper  room"  in  Jerusalem — Matthew  is  mentioned  !  His  voice 
is  heard  with  the  rest,  engaged  in  earnest  prayer  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  Paraclete — "following"  his  Lord  in  thought  to  the 
glory  to  which  He  had  ascended,  and  waiting  for  the  promised 
baptism  of  fire.  That  Holy  Spirit,  in  accordance  with  the 
Saviour's  word,  is  poured  abundantly  on  Matthew,  to  qualify 
him  alike  to  be  ?n  inspired  Historian  and  a  faithful 
Missionary.  As  the  Historian — He  "guides  him  into  all 
the  truth,"  "brings  all  things  to  his  remembrance/''  "shews 
him  things  to  come."  As  the  Missionary — He  imbues  him 
with  supernatural  gift?,  in  accordance  with  his  Lord's  part- 
ing declaration — "  Ye  shall  receive  power,  after  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  come  upon  you  ;  and  ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me 
both  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  unto 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  I"  Foith  he  went,  on  his 
great  errand ;  ending  A  LIFE  OF  SACRIFICE  on  a  martyr's 
cross,  and  inheriting,  we  doubt  not,  a  martyr's  crown. 

In  conclusion,  Christ  would  speak  to  each  of  us  in 
the  words  he  addressed  to  this  Publican — "  FOLLOW  THOU 
ME!"  Believers!  He  asks  you  to  honour  Him  in  your  daily 
callings — in  your  everyday  words  and  works.  If,  like  the 
other  fishermen-disciples,  you  are  engaged  in  lawful  occupa- 
tions, leave  them  not,  but  ennoble  and  sanctify  them  with 
high  Christian  motives ;  and,  as  you  reap  in  worldly  gains, 
forget  not  the  God  who  is  the  Proprietor  of  your  wealth, 
and  looks  to  you  to  be  the  almoners  of  His  bounty. 

If,  like  the  Publican  at  the  Eoman  toll,  yours  is  debate- 


THE  LIFE  OF  SACKIFICE.  227 

able  ground — where  principle  is  at  stake; — some  desperate 
game  at  which  conscience  holds  the  dice  with  trembling 
hand; — like  Matthew  forsake  it.  Leave  it,  and  leave  it  for 
ever;  and  take  as  your  motto  (with  the  Divine  favour  and 
blessing)-— "  The  little  that  a  just  man  hath,  is  better  than  the 
riches  of  many  wicked." 

Oh!  plead  not  your  worldly  duties,  your  business,  your 
engagements,  as  an  apology  for  living  without  God ;  as  if  the 
voice  of  Christ  cannot  find  you  there,  and  His  grace  cannot 
triumph  over  all  obstacles.  Remember  it  was  amid  the 
coarse  jostlings  of  that  crowd  at  the  port  of  Capernaum — • 
amid  the  shouts  of  bargemen — the  ringing  of  hammers — the 
roll  of  waggons — that  Matthew  first  heard  (ay,  and  listened 
to)  the  call  "Follow  me!" 

One  other  thought  still  suggests  itself.  We  have  spoken 
of  St  Matthew's  life  as  a  lowly  yet  splendid  instance  of  Self- 
sacrifice;  and  yet,  I  would  beg  you  to  mark  that,  in  the  very 
midst  of  that  Sacrifice  there  is  an  element  of  CHEERFULNESS. 
It  is  a  striking  thing  to  note,  at  the  very  moment  when  he 
has  made  renunciation  of  his  worldly  ALL, — when  his  old 
associates  and  acquaintances  are  doubtless  speaking  of  him 
as  a  ruined  man, — the  old  publican  makes  a  Feast — a  joyous 
Banquet !  He  is  cheerful,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  must 
have  been  conscious  that  the  world,  by  a  voluntary  act,  was 
receding  from  his  grasp,  and  that  his,  henceforth,  is  to  be  a 
homelier  meal,  a  humbler  abode,  a  more  despised  master 
than  the  Roman  Caesar! 

But  this  is  a  true  Picture  of  Christianity,  and  of  the  power 
of  true  Christianity  on  every  heart.  Religion  is  a  Feast — 
Religion  is  gladness.  Let  others  paint  it,  if  they  will,  draped 


228  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

in  sackcloth,  with  melancholy  on  the  brow  and  a  bunch  of 
funereal  cypress  in  the  hand.  That  is  a  spurious  religion ; 
not  the  Religion  of  this  Saviour-God  who  sat  with  Matthew 
at  his  feast — honoured  him  with  His  presence  at  this  social 
gathering!  Never  did  the  sci.l  of  Matthew  find  true  joy  till 
now.  He  had  it  not  before,  in  his  bags  of  gold — his  lordly 
bribes — his  "T*ed  robberies.  But  he  had  ir  sow  in  "the 
peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding"  "keeping 
his  heart ; "  and  even  when  he  left  that  table,  and  bade  fare- 
well for  ever  to  a  luxurious  home,  he  could  look  up  to  the 
face  of  his  Great  Master  and  say,  "  Thou  hast  put  gladness 
into  my  heart,  more  than  in  the  time  that  their  corn  and 
their  wine  increased." 

If  God  be  calling  upon  us  to  follow  Him,  and  if  that  fol- 
lowing demands  the  surrender  of  much  that  our  hearts  may 
fondly  cling  to, — whether  it  be  the  world  or  self,  or  friends, 
or  children,  or  home,  or  substance, — at  His  bidding  let  us 
do  it  willingly — "  The  Lord  loveth  a  cheerful  giver/'  The 
very  surrendering,  if  it  be  for  His  glory,  will  have  an  accom- 
panying blessedness.  Oh  \  I  repeat,  what  can  we  surrender 
for  Him  to  be  compared  for  a  moment  with  what  He  surren- 
dered for  US? — "GOD  SPARED  NOT  HIS  OWN  SON!"  What 
sacrifice  can  we  count  great,  or  unreasonable,  or  grievous, 
after  this  !  Thus,  being  willing  to  honour  Him  as  the  Taker 
as  well  as  the  Giver,  let  us  remember  the  words  of  the  L6rd 
Jesus,  how  he  said,  "There  is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or 
brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children, 
or  lands,  for  my  sake,  ana  the  gospel's,  but  he  shall  receive 
manifold  more  in  this  present  time;  and  in  the  world  to 
come  life  everlasting." 


xrvr. 


The  Paschal  moon  above 

Seems  like  a  Saint  to  rove, 
Left  shining  in  the  world  with  Christ  alone; 

Below  the  Lake's  still  face 

Sleeps  sweetly  in  th'  embrace 
Of  mountains  terraced  high  with  mossy  stone. 

Here  we  may  sit  and  dream 

Over  the  heavenly  theme, 
Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return; 

Till  on  the  grassy  bed, 

Where  thousands  once  He  fed, 
The  world's  incarnate  Maker  we  discern. 

"And  he  commanded  the  multitude  to  sit  down  on  the  grass,  and  took  the 
five  loaves,  and  the  two  fishes,  and,  looking  up  to  heaven,  he  blessed,  and  brake, 
and  gave  the  loaves  to  his  disciples,  and  the  disciples  to  the  multitude.  And 
they  did  all  eat,  and  were  filled :  and  they  took  up  of  the  fragments  that  re- 
mained twelve  baskets  fall."— MATT.  xiv.  19,20;  MARK  vi.  39-43;  LUKE  ix. 
14-17;  JOHN  vi.  10-13. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST. 

THE  miracle,  which  is  to  form  the  subject  of  this  chapter, 
seems  to  have  had  an  important  influence  on  the  Jewish 
mind,  in  substantiating  the  claims  of  Jesus  to  be  the  Son  of 
God  and  the  Messiah  promised  to  the  Fathers.  We  cannot 
wonder,  therefore,  that  it  occupies  a  prominent  place  in 
Gospel  story.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  miracle  itself 
— the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand — is  described  by  all  the 
four  Evangelists.  Even  John,  who  seldom  travels  in  his 
inspired  narrative  beyond  the  events  transacted  in  Judea,  on 
the  present  occasion  inserts  this  remarkable  Galilean  incident, 
in  connexion  with  the  sublime  discourse  to  which  it  gave 
rise  on  the  Bread  of  life. 

Before  referring  to  the  locality  of  the  miracle,  it  may  be 
well  to  advert  to  the  two  causes  which  seem  to  have  induced 
our  blessed  Lord  and  His  disciples  to  suspend,  for  a  time, 
their  labours  on  the  busy  western  shore  of  GENNESAKET, 
and  seek  the  seclusion  and  repose  of  the  opposite  side. 

The  first  appears,  from  St  Mark,  to  have  been  the  untimely 
death  of  John  the  Baptist,  whose  imprisonment  in  the  castle 
of  Macherus  on  the  Dead  Sea,  had  just  been  terminated  by  an 
act  of  capricious  and  cold-blooded  cruelty  on  the  part  of 
Herod.  A  sorrowing  group  of  his  bereaved  disciples  seem 
to  have  hastened,  whenever  the  deed  was  consummated,  (or 
rather  after  the  interment  of  their  master's  mangled  remains,) 


232  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

to  inform  a  mightier  than  John  of  the  mournful  tragedy. 
He  who  afterwards  wept  tears  of  anguish  over  the  grave  of 
Lazarus,  was  not  likely  to  be  unmoved  when  the  tidings 
reached  Him  of  His  greatest  prophet — a  true  "Master  in 
Israel " — having  fallen. 

We  have  here  a  glimpse  of  the  tenderness  of  the  soul  of 
Jesus.     Sorrow  at  the  death  of  a  valued  friend  and  follower, 
whose  holy  life  had  shone  with  undimmed  lustre  to  its  close, 
stirred  the  depths  of  His  loving  heart.     Grief  likes  to  be 
alone.     The  great  world,  with  its  din  and  bustle,  is  strange — 
grating — ungenial  at  such  an  hour.     Jesus,  feeling  as  a  man, 
would  seek  to  leave  for  a  little  the  crowd — to  commune  with 
His  own  heart  and  be  still.     Eelated  alike  by  kindred  and , 
affection  to  the  Messenger  of  the  Covenant,  He  summons  His 
disci  [»lcs  to  take  ship  from  Capernaum  and  make  for  the 
farther  shore,  that  there  they  might  mingle  their  tears  and 
lamentations  over  the  hero-heart  that  had  so  suddenly  ceased 
to  beat.    John  was  the  Forerunner  of  his  Lord.     "  He  was  not 
that  light,  but  was  sent  to  bear  witness  of  that  light" — the 
morning  star  heralding  the  dawn  of  Gospel  day!     When 
that  Star  was  quenched  in  the  firmament,  the  Great  Sun  of 
all  Being  mourned  the  sudden  extinction  of  His  brightest 
satellite,  and  for  the  moment  waded  through  clouds  of  sorrow. 
As  the  "  Friend  of  the  Bridegroom,"  the  Baptist  had  "  rejoiced 
greatly  at  the  sound  of  the  Bridegroom's  voice ; "  now  the 
Bridegroom  in  His   turn  mourns  when  the  voice   of  His 
faithful,  earliest,  self-denying  friend  is  for  ever  hushed  and 
silenced. 

But  a  second  cause  may  be  added  for  this  retirement  to 
the  solitudes  of  Naphtali.     We  find,  in  the  preceding  context. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  233 

that  the  twelve  Apostles  had  just  returned  from  their  first 
missionary  tour  in  the  towns  and  villages  of  Galilee — the 
first-fruits  and  earnest  of  vaster  enterprises  throughout  Jndea 
and  the  world.  Weak  and  exhausted  with  their  incessant 
ministrations,  their  Lord  provides  for  them  this  season  of 
needful  rest.  "Come  ye  also/'  says  he,  "apart  into  a  desert 
place,  and  rest  a  little."  It  was  a  befitting  opportunity,  too, 
for  communicating  in  private  to  their  Divine  Master  the 
results  of  their  preaching.  "  The  apostles,''  we  read,  "gathered 
themselves  together  unto  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things,  both 
what  they  had  DONE  and  what  they  had  TAUGHT/" 

Solemn  and  touching  picture!  Ah!  it  is  what  every 
minister  of  the  Gospel  has  yet  to  do — when  his  work  is 
done — when  his  mission  is  over — and  he  crosses  to  meet  his 
Lord  in  the  deep  solitudes  of  eternity.  What  an  incentive 
this  for  every  Steward  of  the  mysteries  of  grace  to  be  earnest, 
faithful,  self-denying,  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season- — 
"warning  every  man,  and  teaching  every  man  in  all  wisdom, 
that  they  may  present  every  man  perfect  in  Christ  Jesus." 
How  terrible  to  confront  his  Judge  at  last,  and  to  be  branded 
by  his  own  deeds  and  his  own  teachings  as  a  traitor  to  his 
trust;  listening,  in  the  silence  of  self-condemnation,  to  the  two- 
fold question  which  will  be  put  at  the  threshold  of  immor- 
tality— "  What  hast  thou  DONE?  What  hast  thou  TAUGHT  ?" 

The  place  to  which  the  Kedeemer  and  His  disciples  now 
retired  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Bethsaida  or  Julias, 
on  the  north-eastern  shore  of  Gennesaret,  under  the  green 
mountains  of  Golan,  where  the  Jordan  hurries  its  waters  into 
the  Lake. 

We  are  not  to  understand  by  "  a  desert  place"  a  region 


MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

of  dry  barren  sand;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  a  spot  fertile  in 
itself,  but  it  had  not,  like  the  opposite  land  of  GENNESARET, 
been  brought  under  the  cultivation  of  the  husbandman.  It 
remained  in  a  state  of  nature.  Cattle  browsed  on  its  slopes, 
or  on  the  rich  pastures  at  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan.  It  was 
now  the  most  delightful  season  of  the  Palestine  year.  The 
first  flush  of  spring  was  carpeting  both  plain  and  mountain 
with  living  green.  John  specially  notes  the  season  :  "  The 
passover,  a  feast  of  the  Jews,  was  nigh;"*  and,  again,  as 
confirmatory  of  the  time,  Mark  (who  is  ever  the  most  graphic 
and  pictorial  of  the  Evangelists, — always  seizing,  if  I  might 
so  say,  with  a  painter's  eye,  some  striking  natural  feature  in 
the  scene  he  delineates),  afterwards  represents  the  multitudes, 
in  his  description  of  the  miracle,  as  seated  on  the  "GREEN 
grass/'  •(• 

The  Lord  and  His  disciples  had  crossed  alone  in  their 
fishing  vessel,  but  the  many  eager  auditors  they  had  left 
behind — still  thirsting  for  the  word  of  the  kingdom — set  out 
on  foot,  walking  round  by  the  northern  shore  of  the  lake,  in 
hopes  of  meeting  Jesus  as  he  landed,  and  of  again  enjoying 
His  instructions.  The  fame  of  the  Prophet  of  Galilee  had 
now  rapidly  spread.  As  these  anxious  groups  passed  through 

*  John  vi.  4. 

t  "  The  desert  place  was  either  one  of  the  green  table  lands,  visible  from  the 
hills  on  the  western  side;  or,  more  probably,  part  of  the  rich  plain  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Jordan.  In  the  parts  of  this  plain  not  cultivated  by  the  hand  of  man, 
would  be  found  the  'much  green  grass'  still  fresh  in  the  spring  of  the  year, 
when  this  event  occurred,  before  it  had  faded  away  in  the  summer  sun — the  tall 
grass  which,  broken  down  by  the  feet  of  the  thousands  there  gathered  together, 
would  make  as  it  were  couches  for  them  to  recline  upon.  Overhanging  the 
plain  was  'the  mountain'  range  of  Golan,  on  whose  heights  'Jesus  sat  with 
his  disciples/  and  saw  the  multitude  coming  to  them ;  and  to  which,  when  the 
feast  was  over,  he  again  retired."— Stanley,  p.  377. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  235 

the  towns  and  hamlets  that  lined  the  shore,  they  added  to 
their  numbers, — villagers,  husbandmen,  fishermen  swelled 
their  company.  Moreover,  the  time  of  the  Passover  approach- 
ing, it  is  more  than  probable  they  would  meet  some  of  the 
northern  caravans  of  pilgrims  coming  to  the  holy  feast.  The 
report  of  the  miracles  performed  in  the  towns  bordering  on 
Tiberias,  had  reached  the  adjacent  region — Tyre  and  Sidon — • 
the  secluded  hamlets  of  Lebanon  and  the  cities  of  Syria  ;  and 
many,  hearing  that  the  wonder-working  Teacher  was  so  nigh 
at  hand,  would  doubtless  willingly  suspend  their  journey,  and 
join  the  groups  who  were  hastening  to  meet  Him. 

The  crowd  which  had  left,  a  few  hours  before,  the  streets  of 
Capernaum,  has  now  increased  with  these  varied  recruits  to 
the  number  of  five  thousand.  Might  it  not  be  taken  as  the 
first  earnest  of  a  vaster  fulfilment  of  old  Jacob's  prophecy 
regarding  the  coming  of  the  Shiloh — "  Unto  him  shall  the 
gathering  of  the  people  be?" 

From  one  of  these  green  slopes,  already  indicated,  Jesus 
sees  the  multitudes.  The  flocks  browsing  on  the  pastoral 
scenes  around  Him  are  carefully  tended ;  but  the  Great  and 
Good  Shepherd  is  "moved  with  compassion"  towards  the 
human  crowd  below,  because  "  they  were  as  sheep  not  having 
a  shepherd ! "  He  prepares,  therefore,  to  lead  them  to  green 
pastures  and  still  waters,  and  to  give  them  meat  to  eat  which 
the  world  knows  not  of. 

Let  us  here  note,  the  ever  unselfish,  untiring,  unwearying 
ardour  of  the  Saviour  in  Hi.3  great  mission  of  mercy.  Could 
we  have  wondered,  if,  in  the  present  instance,  He  had  declined 
to  leave  repose  so  needed  ? — all  the  more  needed,  as  He  knew 
that,  with  the  Passover  drawing  near,  there  would  be  fresh 


236  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

claims  on  His  own  teaching,  and  on  that  of  his  disciples. 
How  hard,  it  seems,  to  break  that  rest,  (that  well-earned  re- 
compense), after  weeks  of  unremitting  toil,  and  days  in  which 
they  had  scarce  leisure  or  opportunity  to  taste  food  !  Could 
we  have  thought  it  strange  if  Jesus  had  rebuked  this  rude 
disturbance — this  unkind  intrusion  on  sorrow  and  repose — 
and  left  the  motley  throng  to  return,  as  best  they  might,  to 
their  places  of  sojourn  ?  But  never  in  any  one  instance  do 
we  find  Him  sacrificing  the  comforts  of  others  to  minister  to 
His  own.  "  Christ  pleased  not  himself."  It  was  the  motto 
of  His  whole  earthly  existence.  The  deeps  of  His  being  are 
stirred  by  the  sight  of  these  unshepherded,  unfolded  sheep ;  and 
He  hastens  down  the  mountain  slope  to  minister  alike  to  their 
spiritual  and  temporal  necessities.  In  a  few  moments  that  same 
majestic  voice  is  heard  in  the  deep  stillness  of  this  mountain 
solitude,  with  the  roll  of  Jordan  at  their  side,  and  the  blue 
heavens  for  their  canopy,  proclaiming  words  which  cause  many 
in  that  "  wilderness  and  solitary  place  "  to  be  "  made  glad/' 

Before  performing  His  work  of  omnipotence,  Jesus  seemed 
desirous  of  testing  the  faith  of  His  own  disciples,  and 
especially  of  one,  from  whom,  after  many  weeks  of  close 
fellowship  and  communion,  we  might  well  have  expected  a 
more  prompt  recognition  of  the  powrer  of  his  Master.  "  When 
Jesus  then  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  saw  a  great  company  come 
unto  him,  he  saith  unto  PHILIP,  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread, 
that  these  may  eat  ?  And  this  he  said  to  prove  him :  for  he 
himself  knew  what  he  woidd  do.  Philip  answered  him, 
Two  hundred  pennyworth  of  bread  is  not  sufficient  for  them, 
that  every  one  of  them  may  take  a  little  "  * 

*  John  vi.  5-7. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  237 

Philip,  of  all  the  Apostles,  seems  to  have  been  "  slow  of 
heart"  He  gave  promise,  at  an  earlier  period,  of  better 
things — when,  with  a  soul  apparently  full  of  zeal  and  con- 
fidence, he  sped  him  to  Nathanael  with  the  good  news  that 
Messiah  had  at  last  been  found ;  and  when  he  would  not 
leave  the  guileless  Israelite  until,  from  under  the  shade  of 
his  fig  tree,  he  had  "  brought  him  to  Jesus."  The  mingled 
gentleness  and  severity  of  the  Saviour's  rebuke,  addressed 
to  Philip,  on  an  after  occasion,  might  have  been  adminis- 
tered now — "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet 
hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip?"  Jesus  had  put  the 
present  question,  "  Whence  shall  we  buy  bread  ?"  to  see 
whether  or  not  he  would  leap  at  once  to  the  conclusion, 
warranted  by  all  which,  during  the  preceding  weeks,  his 
eyes  had  seen  and  his  ears  had  heard  of  the  Word  of  life. 
He  had  witnessed  the  tempest  stilled — devils  cast  out — 
the  possessed  sitting  calm  at  their  Deliverer's  feet; — he 
had  seen  Sickness,  at  the  same  mandate,  taking  wings  and 
fleeing  away — and,  above  all,  Death  itself  compelled  to  yield 
its  prey; — and  yet,  in  dull,  stupid  unbelief,  he  begins  to 
make  the  poor  calculation  about  his  two  hundred  penny- 
worth of  bread !  Others,  less  privileged,  might  have  con- 
veyed to  him  a  silent  reprimand.  Had  the  Leper  of  Caper- 
naum— or  the  friends  of  the  Paralytic — or  Jairus — or  the 
Gentile  centurion — had  one  or  other  of  these  listened  to  the 
Saviour's  question,  the  likelihood  is,  that  from  each  and 
all  there  would  have  been  the  reply — "  Thou  who  changest 
the  storm  into  a  calm — Thou  who  hast  the  elements  of 
nature  and  the  events  of  providence  in  Thy  hand — Thou 
who  hast  the  key  of  heaven's  garner  at  Thy  girdle  — 


238  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Thou  hast  only  to  speak  the  word,  and  manna  will  distil,  as 
aforetime,  from  the  clouds,  or  the  fowls  of  the  air  will  fetch, 
as  they  did  to  Elijah  of  old,  a  mysterious  supply.  What  is 
this  fainting  crowd  in  this  remote  corner  to  Thee,  '  who 
openest  Thine  hand  and  satisfiest  the  desire  of  EVEEY  living 
thing?'" 

Let  us  beware  of  dishonouring  God  by  our  unbelief,  de- 
scending to  earthly  shifts  and  earthly  calculations  instead  of 
honouring  Him  by  a  full  and  implicit  reliance  in  His  mingled 
power  and  mercy ; — His  ability  and  willingness  to  help — feed 
— sustain — comfort  us.  "  Can  God  spread  a  table  in  the 
wilderness  ? "  was  the  challenge  which  unbelief  once  uttered. 
The  reply  was,  a  forty  years'  experience  of  unvarying  and 
unfailing  faithfulness  and  love.  "  Man's  extremity  "  is  often 
"  God's  opportunity."  He  suffers  our  circumstances  to  be  at 
the  lowest,  that  He  may  render  more  signal  His  interposing 
mercy  and  grace.  Remember,  "  what  things  are  impossible 
with  men  are  possible  with  God."  Nay,  "  all  things  are 
possible  to  him  that  believeth."  "  Cast  then  thy  burden  upon 
the  Lord,  and  he  shall  sustain  thee,"  "  Trust  in  the  Lord,  and 
do  good,  so  shalt  thou  dwell  in  the  land,  and  verily,  tlwu  shalt 
be  fed." 

One  of  the  disciples  is  apparently  either  more  disinterested 
than  the  rest,  or  possibly  he  may  be  spokesman  for  the  others  : 
"Andrew,  Simon  Peter  s  brother,  saith  unto  him,  There  is  a 
lad  here  ivhich  hath  five  barley  loaves  and  two  small  fishes, 
but  what  are  they  among  so  many  ?  "  This,  from  the  narra- 
tive of  the  other  Evangelists,  seems  to  have  formed  their  own 
supply  of  provisions — the  little  stock  which  they  had  pro- 
vided before  crossing  the  lake — for  their  own  evening  meal. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  239 

After  the  previous  days  of  exhaustion  and  want,  to  which 
we  have  already  referred,  this  homely  fare  could  ill  have 
been  spared  ;  and  had  Andrew  or  his  brother  Apostles  been 
men  of  selfish  natures,  they  would  have  taken  care  not  to 
make  known  the  existence  of  their-  tiny  store.  But,  as  we 
found  iii  the  case  of  Matthew,  it  is  the  Gospel's  great 
triumph  to  displace  SELF,  and  on  its  ruins  upraise  the 
two  great  master  principles  of  love  to  God  and  love  to 
man. 

Let  us  learn  the  lesson  here,  of  a  kindly  interest  in  others, 
— a  willingness  to  deny  ourselves,  if  we  can  confer  a  benefit  on 
our  fellows.  He  is  unworthy  of  the  name  of  Christian, 
whose  every  thought  begins,  centres,  and  terminates  in  self — 
a  cold,  frigid  icicle,  chilling  all  who  come  within  his  reach ; 
when  he  gives,  giving  grudgingly ;  and  what  he  gives,  costing 
him  no  sacrifice.  Sacrifice  of  some  sort,  either  of  substance, 
or  time,  or  personal  effort,  is  necessarily  involved  in  every 
deed  of  true  beneficence.  It  was  not  the  gifts  of  costly 
munificence,  thrown  with  supercilious  air  into  the  Treasury, 
which  the  Saviour  valued  ;  but  the  widow's  two  mites,  the 
little  earnings  which  a  grateful,  giving  heart  doled  out  of  her 
penury,  and  which  made  that  evening's  meal  homelier  and 
scantier  than  otherwise  it  would  have  been. 

Let  us  go  back  in  thought  to  that  rural  scene  on  the 
Jordan,  and  as  we  behold  the  disciples  hastening  to  their  Lord 
with  their  handful  of  barley  loaves  and  fishes,  at  His  feet, 
for  distribution  to  the  fainting  multitude, — let  us  learn 
anew,  the  lesson  of  self-sacrifice.  That  scene  is  a  miniature 
picture  of  the  world,  with  its  thousands  (ay,  its  millions  !) 
of  starving  outcasts  ;  famishing,  body  and  soul,  in  temporal 


240  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

and  spiritual  destitution.  Have  we,  like  the  disciples, 
abridged  our  own  comforts  to  minister  to  theirs ;  or  rather, 
is  it  not  the  duty  of  each  to  ask,  before  God,  What  can  I 
abridge  ?  Is  there  no  needless  expenditure — no  lavish  waste 
— no  foolish  redundancy — nothing  that  could  be  spared 
in  my  house  or  my  table,  in  my  social  feasts,  that,  instead  of 
going  to  feed  and  pamper  that  love  of  extravagance  which  is 
running  wild  in  all  modern  society,  would  tend  to  dry  the 
widow's  tears,  clothe  the  nakedness  and  feed  the  mouths  of 
the  orphan  and  destitute  ?  Not  that  the  elegancies  and 
refinements  of  life  are  to  be  condemned  and  denounced. 
Par  from  it !  As  "  creatures  of  God"  they  are  good,  and  if 
kept  in  due  subordination,  not  to  be  refused,  but  rather  "  re- 
ceived with  thanksgiving/'  But  they  are  to  be  condemned, 
if  they  are  either  abused,  or  if  their  very  lavish  profusion 
only  hardens  into  a  deeper  and  intenser  selfishness,  and  a 
more  guilty  ignoring  of  the  wants  and  claims  of  others. 
We  shall  find  immediately  a  command  given,  with  regard  to 
the  fragments  of  the  feast,  that  they  were  to  be  carefully 
gathered,  so  as  to  allow  of  no  wastefulness. 

Ah  !  might  not  the  crumbs,  often  despised  among  us,  go  to 
gladden  the  lot  of  some  lowly  Lazarus  at  our  gate  ?  might  not 
the  delicacies  at  many  a  board  be  spared,  or  abridged,  to  swell 
the  widow's  barrel  of  meal?  might  not  some  lights  of 
luxury  go  far  to  feed  her  cruse  of  oil?  Remember  the 
Apostle's  words,  "  Whoso  hath  this  world's  goods,  and  se^th 
his  brother  have  need,  and  shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  com- 
passion from  him,  how  dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  him?" 
Rein  ember  the  words  of  a  Greater  than  the  Apostle — that 
adorable  Saviour,  who,  on  the  Great  Day  will  reckon  what  is 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  241 

done  to  the  least  and  poorest  of  His  brethren,  as  if  done  to 
Himself — "I  was  hungry,  and  ye  gave  me  meat;  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink."  In  doing  it  to  yonder  shivering 
outcast,  yonder  ragged  beggar,  yonder  old  man  groping 
in  his  blindness,  yonder  widow  with  her  homeless  orphans, 
yonder  idolater  abroad,  yonder  heathen  at  home — "  Verily 
I  say  unto  you,  ye  did  it  unto  MB." 

But,  to  return  to  the  miracle  It  is  supposed  when  Jesus 
first  put  the  question  we  have  already  considered  to  Philip, 
it  had  been  towards  the  afternoon.  But  as  the  day  wears 
fast  away,  and  twilight  approaches,  his  disciples  come  to  Him 
in  great  concern,  urging  the  necessity  of  dismissing  the 
crowd  to  the  adjoining  villages,  that  they  might  procure 
needed  victuals  and  lodging  for  the  night.  The  Lord  proceeds 
without  delay,  to  manifest  His  power  by  the  prodigy  which 
follows :  "  He  commanded  them,"  says  Mark,  "  to  make  all 
sit  down  by  companies  on  the  green  grass ;  and  they  sat 
down  in  ranks  by  hundreds  and  by  fifties." 

We  may  imagine  the  scene ; — Groups  of  men  gathered 
in  regular  order ;  their  long-drawn  shadows  at  that  sunset 
hour  projected  on  "  the  green  grass,"  or  creeping  up  the  gentle 
slopes.  In  front,  facing  these  haggard  countenances,  with 
the  traces  of  grief  and  exhaustion  on  His  own,  stands  the 
Son  of  God !  He  is  about  to  fulfil  the  truth  of  a  saying 
uttered  from  a  mountain  platform  then  full  in  view,  "  Seek 
ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  and  all 
these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  These  fainting 
thousands  (many  of  them  at  least),  had  sought  the  Kingdom 
of  God,  and  now  they  were  to  have  the  promised  addition  of 
temporal  blessings. 

Q 


242  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

The  feast  proceeds  ; — the  food  increases  and  multiplies  in 
the  hand  of  Christ — still  more,  in  that  of  the  Apostles,  as 
they  deal  it  out  to  the  crowds — and  more  still,  as  the  separate 
groups  receive  their  allotted  portion.  At  last,  when  all  are 
satisfied,  the  disciples  receive  the  closing  command,  "Gather 
up  the  fragments  that  remain,  that  nothing  be  lost :  and 
they  took  up  of  the  fragments  which  remained  twelve  baskets 
full."  The  residue  of  the  feast  was  greater  than  the  amount 
of  the  original  provisions. 

Oh !  beautiful  type  of  true  benevolence,  and  its  invariable 
results.  The  Apostles  had  given  their  little  all  with  an 
ungrudging  spirit, — but  they  were  no  losers.  The  loaves 
expanded  in  the  hands  of  Giver  and  receiver ;  and  when  the 
donors  came  to  count  their  loss,  lo,  it  was  a  mysterious 
gain  !  "  There  is  that  scattereth,  and  yet  increaseth ;  and 
there  is  that  withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  and  it  tendeth  to 
poverty.  The  liberal  soul  shall  be  made  fat ;  and  he  that 
wa-tereth,  shall  be  watered  also  himself/' 

But  there  were  weightier  spiritual  truths  intended  to  be 
conveyed  in  this  miraculous  feast.  The  Miracle  for  a  moment 
lapses  into  the  Parable.  Great  and  glorious  truths  in  an 
acted  Parable-form  are  impressed  by  their  Master  on  the 
apostolic  band.  These,  as  we  have  seen,  had  just  returned 
from  their  first  mission.  He  tells  them  still,  in  His  name, 
and  on  his  authority,  to  proceed  on  their  Godlike  work.  That 
crowd  was  symbolic  of  a  world,  fainting,  wearying,  hungering, 
for  the  Bread  of  life, — and  the  command  to  the  disciples  is, 
"  GIVE  YE  THEM  TO  EAT."  Nor  were  the  overflowing  baskets 
without  their  significancy ; — did  they  not  point  to  the  inex- 
haustible affluence  and  fulness  of  the  Divine  riches  ? — that 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  243 

thousands  on  thousands  have  been  ministered  to,  and  yet  still 
the  table  in  the  wilderness  is  as  full  as  ever?  Millions  of 
hungry  souls  have  been  fed,  and  still  the  promise  is  as  ample 
as  ever,  "He  satisfieth  the  longing  soul  with  good  things;" 
''Blessed  are  they  that  do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteous- 
ness, for  they  shall  be  filled."  Still  the  command  is  to  His 
servants,  "  Give  ye  them  to  eat" — Proclaim,  "  He  that  hath  no 
money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and  milk, 
without  money  and  without  price."  Nay,  there  is  more  than 
this  implied ; — in  these  overflowing  baskets  of  fragments,  God 
seems  to  say  to  his  servants,  "I  will  multiply  my  blessing, 
the  more  the  bread  is  given,  the  more  the  word  is  proclaimed. 
There  will  not  only  be  "  bread  enough,"  but  "  to  spare."  I  will 
give  "  more  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  you  can  ask 
or  think." 

While  all  this  is  encouraging  to  ministers,  who  are  the 
distributors  of  the  bread;  those  who  receive  it  at  their 
hands  may  read  in  this  Parabolic  miracle  the  willingness  of 
Christ  to  supply  the  wants  of  all  His  people  in  this  desert 
world.  They  never  can  come  out  of  place,  or  out  of  season, 
to  Him.  As  we  see  the  Saviour  coming  forth  from  His  needed 
solitude  and  rest,  to  minister  to  these  wearied  multitudes, 
does  He  not  proclaim  to  all  time,  to  fainting  myriads,  who,  in 
future  ages  would  have  far  deeper  cause  of  weariness  and 
unrest,  "Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out/' 

And  now,  let  us  "  gather  up  the  fragments  which  remain, 
that  nothing  be  lost ;" — or  rather  let  us,  from  the  Saviour's 
own  discourse  the  day  following,  carry  away  the  ONE  great 
Fragment — His  own  sublime  spiritual  lesson  supplied  by  the 


244  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

miracle — it  is  the  key-note  of  that  wondrous  Sermon : — 
"  Labour  not  for  the  bread  ivhich  perislieth,  but  for  that 
which  endureth  to  everlasting  life." 

LABOUR  NOT  FOR  THE  PERISHABLE  ! — What  lesson  more 
needed,  when  with  multitudes  the  perishable  seems  all  they 
live  for — all  they  care  for  ?  Yes,  indeed.  Sad  it  is,  when  we 
come  in  sober  seriousness  to  pause  and  think  of  it,  that  so 
many  thousands  should  be  frittering  away  this  great  period 
of  preparation  for  eternity  in  this  unremunerative  labour  of 
earth. —  Unremunerative  !  for  what  in  a  few  brief  years  will 
all  this  worldly  toil  come  to  ?  All  that  the  world  can  give, 
apart  from  Christ,  never  can,  never  will,  satisfy.  You  may 
as  well,  by  a  few  grains  of  sand,  or  a  few  spadefulls  of  dust, 
expect  to  fill  up  a  yawning  gulph,  as  fill  the  gaping  crevices 
of  man's  soul — reach  the  deeps  of  his  being  with  the  poor 
nothings  of  earth.  He  was  born  for  nobler  things,  and  with 
less  noble  things  you  cannot  satisfy  him. 

Besides  all  this,  how  transient,  uncertain,  precarious,  all 
that  wealth  can  hoard,  and  labour  realise  !  Like  Sisyphus  of 
old,  the  stone,  after  a  lifetime's  labour,  has  been  heaved  to 
the  mountain-summit ;  but  in  one  unwary  moment,  it  slips 
from  the  hand,  down  it  hurries,  with  hopeless  bound,  to  the 
depths  of  the  valley  ;  the  golden  heap  which  took  a  life-time 
to  amass,  one  solitary  wave  of  calamity  comes  and  washes 
away ! 

BUT,  "he  that  believeth  on  ME  shall  NEVER  hunger."  His 
inordinate  appetite  for  earthly  things  shall  be  so  subdued 
and  vanquished  by  the  nobler  portion  he  has  in  Myself,  that 
he  will  neither  too  ardently  covet  earthly  blessings,  nor  fret 
and  mourn  too  heavily  when  they  are  taken  away. 


THE  MIRACULOUS  FEAST.  245 

Let  us  listen  to  the  voice  of  Him  who  is  even  now  saying  to 
us,  "I  AM  THE  BEEAD  OF  LIFE  !"  Let  the  voice  of  that  same 
yearning  Shepherd,  who  was  moved  with  compassion  towards 
the  wandering  multitude — let  the  voice  of  Jesus  be  heard 
telling  every  weary  "labourer"  of  that  rest  He  has  procured. 
Let  the  monitory  word  follow  us  out  into  this  busy  world  ;  let 
its  accents  fall  in  the  place  of  business,  in  the  crowded  mart, 
in  the  workshop,  by  the  counter,  in  the  class-room,  in  the 
study — let  it  follow  us  up  the  ladder  of  ambition,  and  track 
our  steps  in  the  race  for  riches — "LABOUR  NOT  FOR  THE 

MEAT  WHICH  PERISHETH,  BUT  FOR  THAT  WHICH  ENDURETH 
TO  EVERLASTING  LIFE  I* 


XV. 


ON  the  dark  wave  of  Galilee 

The  gloom  of  twilight  gathers  fast, 
And  o'er  the  waters  heavily 

Sweeps,  cold  and  drear,  the  evening  blast. 

The  weary  bird  has  left  the  air, 

And  sunk  into  its  shelter 'd  nest ; 
The  wandering  beast  has  sought  his  lair, 

And  laid  him  down  to  welcome  rest. 

Still  near  the  lake,  with  weary  tread, 

Loiters  a  form  of  human  kind  ; 
And  from  his  lone  unshelter'd  head 

Flows  the  chill  night-damp  on  the  wind. 

Why  seeks  not  he  a  home  of  rest  ? 
.     Why  seeks  not  he  the  pillow'd  bed  1 
Beasts  have  their  dens,  and  birds  their  nest, 
He  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 

"  And  straightway  Jesus  constrained  his  disciples  to  get  into  a  ship,  and  to  go 
before  him  unto  the  other  side,  while  he  sent  the  multitudes  away.  And  when 
he  had  sent  the  multitudes  away,  he  went  up  into  a  mountain  apart  to  pray  . 
and  when  the  evening  was  come  he  was  there  alone.  But  the  ship  was  now  in 
the  midst  of  the  sea,  tossed  with  waves  :  for  the  wind  was  contrary.  And  in  the 
fourth  watch  of  the  night  Jesus  went  unto  them,  walking  on  the  sea.  And  when 
the  disciples  saw  him  walking  on  the  sea,  they  were  troubled,  saying,  It  is  a 
spirit ;  and  they  cried  out  for  fear.  But  straightway  Jesus  spake  unto  them, 
saying,  Be  of  good  cheer  :  it  is  I ;  be  not  afraid." — MATT.  xiv.  22-27. 


THE  NIGHT  EESCUE. 

IT  is  NIGHT  on  the  SEA  OF  GALILEE  !  a  night  of  Tempest ; — 
the  Lord  of  the  sea  and  the  storm  walks  majestically  on  the 
waves.  "  He  made  darkness  his  secret  place — his  pavilion 
round  about  him  are  dark  waters  and  thick  clouds  of  the 
sky."  We  know  of  no  subject  in  the  inspired  picture-gallery 
which  exceeds  this  in  sublimity  and  grandeur.  If  there  be 
poetry  in  any  part  of  the  Gospel  story,  it  is  here.  It  forms  an 
episode  in  a  Life  which  itself  was  the  grandest  and  sublimest 
of  Epics.  Let  us  approach  the  scene  with  sanctified  imagina- 
tions ;  and  as  we  contemplate  the  Creator  of  all  worlds — His 
head  wreathed  with  tempests — the  restless  surge  his  path- 
way, approaching  the  labouring  vessel  of  the  Apostle- fisher- 
men, and  revealing  himself  as  their  God  and  guide — be  it 
ours  with  triumphant  faith  to  exclaim,  "  This  GOD  is  our  God 
for  ever  and  ever,  He  will  be  OUR  guide  even  unto  death." 

The  miraculous  feast  to  the  crowd  of  five  thousand  being 
over,  Jesus  dispersed  the  multitudes  to  their  several  abodes.  As 
the  night-shadows  were  falling,  they  might  be  seen  in  strag- 
gling groups  wending  their  way  round  the  northern  shore  to 
their  various  hamlet-homes.  We  can  think  of  the  Passover 
pilgrims,  too,  accompanying  them — their  voices  attuned  to 
some  of  those  psalms  and  sacred  songs  they  were  in  the  habit 
of  singing  by  night  on  the  occasion  of  this  solemn  anniver- 
sary !  Would  not  the  melody  be  all  the  sweeter  on  account 


248  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

of  the  gracious  words  they  had  heard  proceeding,  a  few  hours 
before,  from  the  lips  of  the  wonder-working  Prophet,  whom 
the  entire  crowd,  John  tells  us,  had  He  permitted,  were  ready 
to  hail  at  that  moment  as  their  Messiah-King — "  the  hope  of 
Israel  and  the  Saviour  thereof  1" 

Before  dismissing  the  multitude,  however,  He  gives  direc- 
tions to  His  disciples  to  enter  their  vessel  and  recross  the  take 
to  Bethsaida.  He  gives  no  indication  as  to  how  or  where  He 
may  rejoin  them — whether  He  will  follow  next  morning  in 
the  steps  of  the  crowd,  and  meet  them  in  the  streets,  or  at 
the  port  of  Capernaum — or  whether  He  will  avail  himself  of 
seme  other  vessel  crossing  the  lake  at  early  dawn.  On  all 
this  He  maintains  a  mysterious  silence. 

From  the  words  "  He  constrained  them  to  get  into  the 
ship,  "*  we  may  almost  gather  that  it  was  with  fond  reluc- 
tance the  disciples  assented  to  this  separation.  They  may  have 
attempted  even  a  gentle  remonstrance,  pleading  either  that 
He  would  still  accompany  them,  or  else  permit  them  again  to 
drop  anchor,  and  suspend  their  voyage  till  He  was  prepared 
to  go.  The  sky  may  have  already  been  wearing  a  threatening 
aspect ; — the  hollow  meanings  familiar  to  the  fishermen's 
ears  may  have  been  premonitory  of  a  coming  storm  ; — lower- 
ing clouds  may  have  been  wreathing  the  brow  of  the  Gadara- 
heights  and  the  headlands  of  Tiberias. 

On  a  former  occasion  (which  we  have  already  considered) 
when  the  disciples  encountered  another  storm  on  the  lake, 
they  felt  that  all  was  safe  when  their  Master  had  said,  "  Let 
US  pass  over."  Their  adorable  Lord — the  Heavenly  Pilot — 
was  with  them  in  the  vessel.  Now  it  was  different.  They 

*  Matt.  xiv.  22. 


THE  NIGHT  RESCUE.  249 

had  before  them  night,  on  a  tempestuous  sua  ;  and  He,  whose 
voice  alone  could  hush  its  fury,  was  leaving  them  to  brave 
it  alone  ! 

But  His  word  and  will  were  paramount.  That  great  Lord, 
whose  power  and  tenderness  were  so  recently  manifested  to 
the  fainting  multitudes,  commands  them  to  depart.  It  is 
enough ;  they  ask  no  more.  Though  the  storm  may  have 
been  already  beating  high — like  brave  soldiers,  who,  at  the 
bidding  of  their  Captain,  rush  on  to  the  assault,  determined 
to  conquer  or  perish — they  are  in  a  moment  launched  on 
the  deep,  encountering  the  crested  waves  and  the  gathering 
darkness. 

It  was  twilight  (about  six  o'clock)  when  they  set  out.  A 
fair  breeze  would  soon  have  run  them  to  the  western  side  ; 
but  when  midnight  came,  it  found  them  little  more  than  half 
way  on  their  voyage.  Owing  to  a  furious  headwind,  their 
sail  was  useless  ;  and  though  for  nine  hours  they  toiled  man- 
fully at  the  oars,  three  o'clock  (the  fourth  watch  of  the  night) 
found  them  still  pitching  in  the  midst  of  that  roaring  sea — 
the  fitful  lights  (their  only  compass)  glimmering  distant  as 
ever  on  the  longed-for  opposite  shore.  The  former  cry  of 
faithless  unbelief  may  now  have  been  often  on  their  lips  as 
they  thought  of  last  evening's  mysterious  parting,  "  Master, 
master,  carest  Thou  not  that  we  perish  ?"  "  If  He  had  been 
with  us,"  we  may  picture  them  saying  to  each  other,  "  If  He 
had  been  with  us,  asleep  as  He  was  before,  in  the  hinder 
part  of  our  ship,  then  we  could  have  rushed  to  His  side, 
invoked  His  aid,  and,  in  a  moment  would  the  storm  have 
been  changed  into  a  calm.  But  where  He  is  now,  we  cannot 
tell ;  our  cries  are  inaudible,  our  prayers  are  vain  ;  they  are 


250  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

drowned  in  the  rage  of  that  tempest."  "  Surely  our  way  is 
hid  from  the  Lord,  and  our  judgment  is  passed  over  from 
our  God  !" 

Let  us  pause  here  and  learn  a  twofold  lesson. 

Viewing  this  scene  as  a  picture  of  human  life,  learn,  first, 
How  sudden  are  the  transitions  in  human  experience,  from 
sunshine  to  storm,  and  from  storm  to  sunshine. 

A  few  hours  before,  the  disciples  had  been  dealing  out  the 
miraculous  stores  to  the  joyous  groups  on  the  green  grass,  par- 
taking along  with  them  of  this  mountain  Feast — the  Great 
Shepherd  of  Israel  Himself  tending  them  with  loving  interest. 
Never  did  sun  seem  to  go  down  more  happily,  or  promise  a 
more  auspicious  rising.  But  now  the  sky  is  clouded — night 
has  drawn  its  curtains  gloomily  around  them — and,  worse 
than  all,  the  Lord  of  the  Feast  is  gone.  The  Shepherd  has 
left,  and  the  sheep  are  scattered  like  broken  reeds  on  the 
trough  of  the  sea. 

Let  us  not  calculate  too  fondly  or  confidently  on  the  per- 
manency of  any  earthly  good.  Let  us  be  "  glad"  of  our 
gourds,  but  not  "  exceeding  glad."  When  we  may  be  saying, 
"  Peace,  peace,  sudden  destruction  may  come."  To-day  God 
may  be  spreading  for  us  a  table  in  the  wilderness ;  prodigal 
nature  may  be  pouring  her  richest  gifts  into  our  lap ; — at 
evening  !  the  sun  of  our  earthly  joys  may  go  down  in  thick 
darkness,  and  the  memory  of  our  best  blessings  be  all  that 
remains. 

Learn,  as  a  second  lesson,  that  God  often  sends  trials  to 
His  own  people,  from  which  the  world  are  exempt. 


THE  NIGHT  HESCUE.  251 

Who  are  these  we  here  behold,  tossed  on  that  sea  ?  Jesus 
had  sent  the  multitudes  quietly  and  peacefully  away  ;  no 
storm  burst  on  them ;  no  danger  threatened  them ;  no  fear 
disquieted  them.  Of  all  the  thousands  who  had  a  few  hours 
before  listened  to  His  voice,  His  own  beloved  followers  alone 
were  called  to  contend  with  the  tempest. 

And  it  is  often  so  still,  with  Christ's  people;  often  do 
storms  visit  them,  from  which  the  world  are  free ;  oftimes, 
when  the  world  are  in  sunshine,  are  they  in  darkness.  The 
bands  of  ransomed  voyagers,  now  lining  the  heavenly  shore, 
give  their  united  testimony — "  We  are  they  who  have  come 
out  of  great  tribulation/' 

But  God  has  always  some  wise  end  in  view  in  sending  His 
people  into  such  a  sea  of  troubles.  In  the  case  of  the  dis- 
ciples, it  was  evidently  to  discipline  their  faith,  and  to  pre- 
pare them  for  sterner  moral  storms,  yet  in  reserve  for  them. 
That  night  at  Tiberias  would  imprint  on  their  inmost  souls 
truths  and  lessons  which  never  would  be  effaced  in  all  their 
future  apostleship,  and  serve  to  brace  their  spirits  for  many 
an  hour  of  perplexity  and  danger. 

It  is  worthy  of  note,  too,  the  progression  in  these  trials  of 
faith.*  The  severity  of  the  test  is  increased  as  the  spiritual 
life  advances.  Just  as  a  child  is  by  degrees,  step  by  step, 
taught  to  walk,  so  are  these  disciples  tutored  in  the  higher 
walk  of  faith.  The  previous  storm  had  doubtless  the  same 
end  in  view  (the  testing  and  strengthening  of  this  great 
principle),  but  there  was  on  that  occasion  a  gracious  temper- 
ing of  the  wind  by  the  Good  Shepherd  to  His  little  flock — His 
shorn  lambs.  When  the  tempest  then  burst  around  them,  He 

*  Chrysostom,  quoted  by  Trench,  in  loco* 


252  MEMORIES  OF  GENNE3AEET. 

was  at  their  side,  though  fast  asleep  on  a  pillow;  yet  the 
very  fact  of  His  presence  must  have  calmed  fears  that  might 
otherwise  have  overmastered  them.  But  they  are  to  graduate 
still  higher  in  the  school  of  faith.  A  severer  test,  therefore, 
now  comes.  On  the  former  occasion,  Jesus  was  like  the 
ID  other  seated  by  her  infant's  cradle,  rocking  it  asleep  with 
the  tones  of  her  well-known  voice,  or  dispelling  its  fears  by 
imprinting,  with  her  own  lips,  kisses  on  its  brow.  Now,  with 
the  increase  of  spiritual  and  apostolic  experience,  He  would 
subject  them  to  a  severer  ordeal — a  further  step  in  His 
gradual  process  of  discipline.  And  how  does  He  do  so  ?  It  is 
in  the  very  way  that  same  mother  disciplines  her  babe,  at  a 
more  advanced  period  of  its  infancy,  when  teaching  it  to 
walk.  She  places  it  by  itself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room,  to  let  it  feel  that  it  is  alone.  The  little  learner,  con- 
scious that  it  is  left  to  its  own  resources,  and  that  even  at 
the  peril  of  a  fall  it  must  risk  the  tiny  adventure,  with  out- 
stretched hands  makes  its  way  across  the  floor  to  bury  its 
head  in  that  bosom  of  safety,  and  clings  there  more  closely 
and  tenderly  than  ever  !  *  It  is  not  the  tender  vine,  sup- 
ported by  its  trelliswork,  which  is  the  type  of  strength,  but 
the  oak  of  a  hundred  years,  standing  alone  on  the  moun- 
tain height,  wrestling  with  the  storm — the  very  bufferings 
of  the  blast  only  making  it  moor  its  roots  firmer  and  deeper 
in  its  ancestral  soil. 

"Beloved,  think  it  not  strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial 
which  is  to  try  you,  as  though  some  strange  thing  happened 
unto  you,  but  rejoice."  "If  need  be,  ye  are  in  heaviness  through 
manifold  temptations,  that  the  trial  of  your  faith  being  much 
*  See  this  well  illustrated  in  Cheever's  "  Way  marks  of  the  Pilgrimage."  p.  25. 


THE  NIGHT  EESCUE.  253 

more  precious  than  of  gold  which  perisheth,  though  it  be 
tried  with  fire,  may  be  found  unto  praiso,  and  honour,  and 
glory,  at  the  appearing  of  Jesus  Christ/'' 

But  to  return  to  the  narrative.  As  the  disciples'  dangers 
increase,  so  also  do  their  fears.  Sadder  and  stranger  than 
ever  seems  their  Master's  absence.  "  Where  is  now  cur 
God?"  mingles  in  thought,  oft  and  again,  with  the  wi^d 
accents  of  the  storm.  It  is  unlike  His  kind  heart  thus  to 
have  deserted  us,  and  consigned  us  to  the  mercy  of  this  piti- 
less tempest. 

But  where  in  reality  was  their  beloved  Saviour  in  the  hour 
they  most  needed  His  presence,  and  most  ardently  longed  for 
it?  He  seemed  to  have  hid  His  face  from  them,  but  it  was 
in  appearance  only,  not  in  reality.  Up  on  the  heights  of  one 
of  these  mountains  that  girdled  the  north-east  corner  of  the 
lake,  the  Kedeemer  of  the  world,  in  the  silence  of  midnight, 
is  alone  with  His  God  !  That  mountain  summit  is  converted 
into  an  altar  of  Prayer.  His  eye  is  at  one  moment  on  the 
distant  sea,  at  another  uplifted  to  heaven  ;  the  breathings  of 
His  soul  are  ascending  in  behalf  of  His  disciples ;  He  is 
watching  every  billow  that  breaks  on  their  tempest-tossed 
bark,  every  fear  which  disturbs  their  fainting  hearts.  The 
darkness  cannot  hide  them  from  Him;  their  troubled  thoughts 
"  He  knoweth  afar  off."  Though  not  praying  with  them,  He 
is  praying  FOE  them,  that  "  their  faith  fail  not." 

Oftimes  are  the  people  of  God  tempted  with  repining 
Zion  to  say,  "  My  Lord  hath  forsaken  me,  and  my  God  hath 
forgotten  me."  But  what  saith  Zion's  God,  "  Can  a  woman 
forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she  should  not  have  compas- 


254  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

sion  on  the  son  of  her  womb  ?  yea,  they  may  forget,  yet 
will  I  not  forget  thee  !"  Storms  and  tumults  may  be  raging 
without — temptations  may  be  assailing  within ;  besetting 
sins  may  now  be  disturbing  the  serenity  of  our  spiritual 
joys ;  seasons  of  holy  refreshment  and  peace  may  be  gone ; 
God  may  seem  to  be  hiding  His  face,  and  we  are  troubled. 
But  behind  these  temporary  clouds  there  sits  a  Saviour  of 
unchanging  faithfulness,  who,  though  we  may  have  forgotten 
Him,  has  not  forgotten  us.  Yes  !  precious  assurance  !  at 
the  very  moment  when  we  may  be  thinking  all  to  be  lost ; — • 
the  vessel  which  bears  in  it  our  eternal  destinies  about  to  be 
foundered; — when  faith  is  beginning  to  fail,  and  hope  to  sink 
— all  dark  without,  all  trouble  within ; — and  worse  than  all, 
when  our  heavenly  Pilot  seems  to  have  deserted  us — there  is 
above  A  PRAYING  SAVIOUR  !  He  who  watched  the  disciples' 
agitated  vessel,  from  Galilee's  mountain,  and  converted  its 
lonely  summit  into  a  place  of  prayer,  is  now  seated  a  great 
Intercessor  on  Mount  Zion  above,  directing  the  roll  of  every 
billow  that  threatens  His  people's  peace,  and,  though  to  them 
unseen,  "  praying  that  their  faith  fail  not ! " 

And  as  it  was  with  the  disciples  of  old,  He  will  not  always 
deny  His  people  the  sensible  comforts  of  His  grace  and 
presence.  Generally  in  the  darkest  hour  of  their  trial,  when 
they  least  look  for  Him,  and  least  expect  Him,  He  reveals 
Himself.  Coming,  too,  in  the  very  pathway  of  their  troubles ; 
going  "  through  the  flood  on  foot,"  and  causing  them  "THERE" 
(in  the  very  place  and  experience  of  tumultuous  sorrow) — 
causing  them  there  to  "  rejoice  in  Him  ! " 

BUT,  alas  !  in  the  narrative  before  us,  we  have  a  mournful 
testimony,  how  sad  often  ii  the  contrast  between  the  faithful- 


THE  NIGHT  EESCUE.  255 

ness  of  a  Saviour  God,  and  the  faithlessness  and  unbelief 
of  man. 

Jesus  comes !  walking  majestically  with  His  radiant  fcrm 
across  the  troubled  waves.  He  is  so  near  His  disciples  that 
they  can  hold  converse  with  Him.  Dark  as  was  the  night, 
they  might  well  have  guessed  that  it  was  their  Lord's  form 
as  well  as  voice  that  was  upon  the  waters.  The  joyous 
utterance  might  well  have  passed  "  from  tongue  to  tongue  " 
— "  The  Master  has  come ! "  We  expect  to  hear  every  moment, 
as  He  nears  the  vessel's  side,  the  word  of  joyous  recognition, 
"  My  Lord  and  my  God." 

But  strange!  His  appearance  seems  to  trouble  and  agitate 
them  more  than  that  vexed  and  agitated  sea.  With  those 
superstitious  feelings  so  provjrbially  common  among  sailors 
and  fishermen,  they  think  they  descry  in  the  hazy  darkness 
only  some  unwelcome  messenger  from  the  spirit- world — 
they  imagine,  possibly,  in  their  dread,  either  that  one  of 
the  spirits  of  darkness,  roaming  so  lately  the  gorges  of 
Gadara,  is  now  evoked  from  the  depths  of  the  lake  where 
it  had  plunged  with  the  mountain  herd;  or  else  that  the 
hour  of  their  own  death  and  destruction  has  arrived,  and 
a  premonitory  herald  from  the  regions  of  Hades — some 
terrible  shape  such  as  the  Jewish  fancy  was  wont  to  picture 
— has  come  from  the  world  of  the  dead  to  give  them  warn- 
ing, that  that  yawning  sea  is  preparing  their  sepulchre, 
and  these  moaning  night  winds  chanting  their  requiem ! 
Faith  is  for  a  moment  eclipsed  by  vain  superstition.  "  They 
were  troubled,  saying,  It  is  a  spirit;  and  they  cried  out  for 
fear." 

How  great  the  contrast;  the   heaving  waters,  the   per- 


256  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

turbed  disciples,  and  the  calm  majestic  tranquillity  of  the 
Great  Lord ! 

And  is  not  the  experience  here  described  often  that  of 
God's  people  still  ?  When  Jesus  comes  to  them  on  some 
billowy  night  of  trial — He  comes  radiant  with  beauty — His 
heart  full  of  love — His  hands  full  of  blessing.  But  they  can 
see  nothing  in  the  looming  mist  but  a  phantom  spirit  of 
terror.  Their  eyes  are  dimmed  with  unbelief — the  windows 
of  the  soul  are  darkened — they  remember  God,  and  are 
troubled.  Or  sometimes,  it  is  even  a  sadder  experience, 
when  in  the  extremity  of  their  unbelief  all  their  former 
pledges  of  His  faithfulness  and  loving-kindness  seem  to 
vanish,  when  for  the  moment  the  rush  of  despair  comes  over 
them.  Religion  is  a  lie — its  comforts  delusions — its  fears 
tales  of  credulity  and  terror — its  joys  brain-phantoms — 
and  the  whole  pillars  of  their  belief  seem  to  rock  and 
tremble  to  their  base.  With  others  again,  even  when  He  is 
recognised,  His  dealings  seem  strange.  As  with  the  disciples 
in  the  text,  He  comes  to  their  ship,  but  He  makes  "as  if  He 
would  have  passed  them  by."  -He  walks,  but  it  is  towards  the 
prow  of  the  vessel.  There  is  a  strange  delay  in  His  inter- 
vention. He  hears  their  cries,  but  He  seems  as  if  He  heard 
them  not.  The  sun  is  in  the  heavens,  but  there  is  no  light 
in  the  sky — no  break  in  the  clouds. 

Be  assured  there  is  some  wise  reason  for  such  postponement 
— such  apparent  "  passing  by/'  You  remember,  how  strange 
seemed  His  delay  to  the  family  of  Bethany,  when  He  lingered 
among  the  mountain-glens  of  distant  Gilead,  instead  of  at  once 
responding  to  their  message  and  hastening  to  their  relief. 
But  in  the  end  it  was  all  "for  the  glory  of  God,  that  the  Son 


THE  NIGHT  RESCUE.  25? 

of  God  might  be  glorified  thereby,  issuing  in  a  glorious  proof, 
that  "  the  Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for  him,  to  the  soul 
that  seeketh  him."  You  remember  in  that  memorable  walk 
with  the  two  disciples  at  Emmaus,  when  He  reached  the 
village,  "He  made"  apparently,  "as  though  He  would  have 
gone  farther/'  Why?  It  was,  as  on  the  occasion  before  us, 
to  draw  forth  the  fervid  invitation  of  burning  hearts,  "Abide 
with  us,  .  .  .  and  they  constrained  Him."  How  often  does 
He  thus  delay  His  succouring  mercy — postpone  deliverance — 
just  in  order  to  draw  forth  the  music  of  importunate  prayer  ? 
Yes !  not  the  least  memorable  lessons  in  this  scene  on  the 
midnight  sea,  are  those  of  PRAYEK.  We  see  our  blessed 
Lord  Himself,  as  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  occupied  in  prayer. 
He  Himself  comes  forth  from  the  mount  of  Prayer  to  tread 
the  waters.  As  the  great  ideal  of  Humanity — the  Exemplar 
of  His  people — He  would  teach  them,  that  if  they  would  over- 
come the  greatest  difficulties,  if  they  would  tread  triumphant 
on  waves  of  trial  and  persecution,  they  must  come  from  their 
bended  knees.  In  walking  thus  majestically  from  His  moun- 
tain oratory  across  the  raging  sea,  He  seems  to  speak  this 
parable  unto  them  and  unto  us,  that  "  men  ought  always  to 
pray  and  not  to  faint/'  The  cry  of  the  disciples,  on  the 
other  hand,  arresting  as  it  did  the  ear  of  their  Master,  and 
evoking  the  word  of  succour  and  love,  tells  us  in  the  depths 
of  our  extremity  never  to  despair.  Each  of  these  voyagers  on 
GENNESARET  was  a  witness  to  the  truth  of  words  which  their 
great  ancestor  uttered  in  olden  times,  not  far  from  the  scene- 
of  their  present  terror — "Deep  cdleth  unto  deep  at  the 
noise  of  Thy  water-spouts:  all  Thy  waves  and  Thy  billows 
are  gone  over  nie.  Yet  the  Lord  will  command  His  loving- 

B 


258  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

kindness  in  the  day  time,  and  in  the  night  His  song  shall  be 
with  me,  and  my  PRAYER  unto  the  God  of  my  life."* 

The  earthquake,  and  the  whirlwind,  and  the  fire,  being 
now  past,  there  comes  "the  still  small  voice."  Loud  above 
the  riot  of  the  storm  sounds  the  well-known,  gentle,  soothing, 
familiar  tones,  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 
Their  Master's  form  they  had  mistaken  in  the  lowering  dark- 
ness, but  the  voice  was  well  known  to  them.  Just  as  the 
sailor,  when  owing  to  the  dense  fog,  he  is  unable  to  descry  the 
beacon  in  the  light-house,  hears  the  sound  of  the  bell,  swung 
on  its  top,  by  the  force  of  the  tempest. 

That  brief  but  beautiful  word  of  comfort  is  fenced  on 
either  side  with  "Be  of  good  cheer, })  "Be  not  afraid."  But 
the  ground  of  consolation  is  in  the  middle  clause.  That 
fear-dispelling,  comfort-giving,  "  IT  is  I/'  must  have  fallen 
on  their  ears  like  a  strain  of  celestial  music.  "It  is  I."  I 
your  Lord  and  Master.  /  who  have  oftimes  before  spoken 
peace  in  your  hours  of  trouble.  /  who  have  bidden  the 
weary  and  the  heavy-laden  come  to  have  rest.  I  whose 
word  has  given  light  to  the  blind,  and  health  to  the  diseased, 
and  comfort  to  the  mourner,  and  life  to  the  dead.  I  who 
but  a  few  brief  hours  ago  had  compassion  on  the  multitudes, 
"because  they  were  as  sheep  not  having  a  shepherd."  Think 
you  I  will  not  much  rather  have  compassion  on  you,  My  own 
sheep,  who  "follow  me,  and  know  My  voice  ?"  "Be  of  good 
cheer,  It  is  I " — Fear  not. 

It  is  the  same  brief  utterance  with  which  He  has  calmed 
the  storm-tossed  in  every  age.  When  Paul,  in  an  after  year, 
was  in  imminent  peril  of  his  life,  shut  up  in  the  Roman 

*  Ps.  xlii.  7,  8. 


THE  NIGHT  RESCUE.  259 

barracks  in  Jerusalem,  in  the  Castle  of  Antonio,  that  same 
Lord,  at  the  same  midnight  hour,  stood  by  the  bed-side  of 
His  desponding  servant,  and  repeated  the  same  peace-giving 
word — -"Be  of  good  cheer,  Paul."  Again,  at  a  subsequent 
period,  one  of  those  very  disciples,  now  in  this  vessel,  had  a 
sublime  vision  vouchsafed  to  him  of  his  Lord.  It  was  so 
overpowering  and  glorious  as  to  lead  him  to  "fall  at  His 
feet  as  one  dead."  But  the  same  right  hand  was  extended, 
the  same  gentle  voice  was  heard,  saying,  "  Fear  not." 

And  who  has  not  felt  in  the  storm-night  of  the  soul  the 
soothing  power  of  that  voice,  and  that  presence,  and  that 
word  ?  "  IT  is  I."  Jesus  liveth.  Oh !  It  is  the  felt  presence, 
and  power,  and  love  of  a  Saviour  God  which  is  the  secret  of 
the  Christian's  strength ; — not  Jesus,  a  distant  abstraction — 
Jesus,  some  mythical  Being  of  superhuman  might,  soaring 
far  beyond  human  conception  and  human  sympathy; — but 
Jesus,  impersonal  Saviour — the  Living  One — the  Acting  One 
— the  Controlling  One ; — (ay,  and  to  as  many  as  He  loves,)  the 
Rebuking  One  and  the  Chastening  One  !  The  hand  of  Jesus, 
and  the  will  of  Jesus,  and  the  love  of  Jesus,  is  to  him  seen 
in  everything.  "It  is  I"  is  to  him  pencilled  on  every  flower, 
murmured  in  every  breeze,  waving  on  every  forest  branch.  It 
is  the  superscription  in  every  event  in  Providence.  It  gleams 
in  gilded  letters  in  prosperity.  It  stands  brightly  out  in  the 
dark  and  cloudy  day.  It  is  written  on  every  sick  pillow — on 
every  death  chamber — on  every  vacant  chair,  and  vacant 
heart.  Yes!  that  little  word  which  rose  from  the  bosom 
of  Tiberias  has  gone  forth  to  the  end  of  the  world,  circling  in 
undying  echoes  wherever  there  is  a  soul  to  comfort  and  a 
tear  to  dry.  It  gave  peace  to  the  chained  Apostle  in  his 


260  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Koman  dungeon.  "All  men  forsook  me,"  says  he,  "Not- 
withstanding THE  LOED  stood  with  me,  and  strengthened  me, 
and  delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  lion."  And  that 
same  Divine  Talisman  that  tuned  the  lips  of  those  lonely 
tempest-tossed  fishermen  to  songs  in  the  night,  is  able  still 
to  allay  every  anxious  fear — every  trembling  misgiving.  "  The 
Lord  is  my  light  and  my  salvation;  whom  shall  I  fear? 
The  Lord  is  the  strength  of  my  life;  of  whom  shaft  I  be 
afraid  ?"  "  The  floods  have  lifted  up  their  voice,  the  floods 
have  lifted  up  their  ivaves  ;  but  the  Lord  on  high  is 
mightier  than  the  noise  of  many  waters,  yea,  than  the 
mighty  waves  of  the  sea." 

Let  us  learn  from  this  entire  passage,  that  we  are  always 
safe  when  following  the  will  and  directions  of  our  Lord  and 
Master. 

Notwithstanding  the  momentary  terror  and  lack  of  faith 
on  the  part  of  the  disciples,  it  was,  as  we  have  seen,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  express  command  of  Jesus,  they  had  left  the 
shore  and  braved  the  storm.  "  He  CONSTEAINED  them  to 
get  into  the  ship/'  With  such  a  warrant  as  this,  they  had 
no  cause  for  fear.  Come  darkness — come  tempest — come  ship- 
wreck— come  death — come  what  may,  they  launched  into  the 
deep,  "/or  the  Lord  had  bidden  them  !"  If  they  had  left  the 
shore  unbidden  by  Him,  they  might  have  had  good  cause  for 
alarm.  The  first  breathings  of  the  tempest  would  have  dis- 
quieted them,  but  with  this  gracious  encouragement,  even 
though  we  are  told  that  "  the  wind  was  contrary,"  they  heeded 
it  not.  Their  own  doubting  hearts  might  have  prompted 
them  to  relinquish  the  voyage,  and,  since  "  all  these  things 


THE  NIGHT  RESCUE.  261 

were  against  them/'  to  return  to  shore.  But  the  Lord  had 
given  the  word  !  They  pursued  undaunted  their  onward 
course,  and  this  was  the  helm  by  which  they  steered  through 
the  adverse  waters — "  The  Lord  hath  bidden  us." 

If  we,  too,  when  seasons  of  trial  overtake  us,  thus  hold  on 
amid  all  difficulties,  cleaving  faithfully  to  Christ,  He  will  at 
last  cause  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  and  bring  us  unto  a 
quiet  haven. 

There  is  a  very  striking  contrast  between  the  case  of  the 
disciples  in  the  narrative,  and  that  of  Jonah; — the  former 
obeying  the  directions  of  their  Lord,  the  latter  fleeing  from 
His  presence.  How  did  it  fare  with  each  ?  For  a  time  God 
seemed  to  prosper  the  journey  of  the  disobedient  prophet. 
Everything  at  first  seemed  to  concur  in  his  favour,  and  pro- 
mised him  a  speedy  and  propitious  voyage.  He  accomplished 
his  land  journey  in  safety,  he  found  a  vessel  just  ready  to 
embark  at  the  very  time  he  needed  it,  and,  with  a  serene  sky 
and  unruffled  sea,  he  holds  on  his  way.  Look,  again,  to  the 
disciples.  They  scarce  have  left  the  shores  of  Galilee,  when 
the  shadows  of  night  begin  to  fall — a  storm  arises — opposing 
winds,  and  an  adverse  tide  defy  their  seamanship,  and  seem 
to  tell  that  obedience  to  their  Lord's  command  is  impossible. 
But  how  did  the  respective  voyages  terminate  ?  The  faith- 
ful disciples,  struggling  fearlessly  on  through  winds  ant 
waves  and  buffeting  elements,  at  last  found,  what  we  shall 
also  find,  an  ample  recompense  for  every  storm  we  encounter, 
and  every  trial  we  endure — they  found  the  Lord.  The 
other,  in  his  guilty  flight,  was  at  first  borne  on  by  a  propi- 
tious breeze,  but  speedily  the  calm  was  changed  into  a  storm  ; 
and,  engulphed  in  the  raging  elements  he  had  madly  braved, 


262  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

he  was  led  to  feel,  in  his  sad  experience,  what  "  an  evil 
thing  it  is  to  depart  away  from  the  living  God." 

Or,  take  another  still  older  example  :  Look  at  Lot,  at  the 
bidding,  not  of  his  God,  but  of  his  own  worldly  ease  and 
selfish  ends,  seeking  the  rich  inheritance,  while  his  more  self- 
denying  kinsman  and  uncle  is  content  with  the  poorer  por- 
tion. At  first,  all  seems  prosperous  with  him ;  the  man  of 
pleasure  revels  amid  his  well-watered  plains  and  his  luscious 
vintages ;  his  cattle  browse  on  richest  pastures  :  the  sun  of 
heaven  shines  not  on  a  fairer  clime — on  statelier  dwellings — 
or  nobler  flocks.  But,  mark  the  end  !  Abraham,  the  un- 
selfish, God-fearing,  falls  asleep  full  of  years  and  faith. 
The  noblest  of  epitaphs  is  to  this  day  read  by  millions  on 
the  old  cave  of  Machpelah — "  The  Father  of  the  Faithful, 
THE  FEIEND  OF  GOD  ! "  But  go  to  yonder  height  at  Zoar, 
and  note  the  contrast.  See  the  proud  home  of  Lot.  The 
place  that  once  knew  it  knows  it  no  more  !  A  canopy  of 
fire  is  its  winding-sheet — the  depths  of  a  bituminous  lake  its 
sepulchre — a  calcined  pillar,  with  a  terrible  history,  stands 
overlooking  the  scene  of  perpetual  desolation ;  and  sadder 
far  than  that  calcined  pillar  in  front — and  blacker  far  than 
the  blackened  ashes  beneath — the  Temple  of  his  own  Soul 
has  been  blasted  and  withered  with  infamy  and  shame!  He 
who  ("  a  righteous  man")  might  have  stood  forth  in  these  early 
ages  as  a  glorious  monument  of  primitive  faith  and  virtue — 
a  bright  beacon-light  to  guide — became  a  glaring  balefire, 
in  the  light  of  which  the  most  distant  ages  may  read  the 
awful  warning — "  Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take 
heed  lest  he  fall!' 

Once  more,  THE  CHURCH  COLLECTIVELY,  as  well  as  be- 


THE  NIGHT  KESCUE.  263 

lievers  individually,  may  find  comfort  and  consolation  in  the 
narrative  we  have  now  been  considering. 

The  two  occasions  of  the  stilling  of  the  tempest,  have  been 
justly  considered  as  typical  of  two  great  epochs  in  the  Lord's 
administration  of  His  Church  on  earth.  The  fast  (when  He 
was  with  His  disciples)  symbolising  the  period  of  His  personal 
ministry — when,  as  God  "  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  He  was 
visibly  among  them,  cheering  them  with  His  companionship. 
The  second,  when  after  His  ascension,  He  no  longer  glad- 
dened the  Church  with  His  personal  presence ;  when  He  left  it, 
apparently  to  battle  its  own  way  amid  the  storms  of  persecu- 
tion ;  but  yet,  all  the  while  continuing  to  watch  it,  as  he  does 
now,  from  the  Heavenly  Hill,  controlling  every  billow  which 
threatens  its  peace.  As  He  appeared  of  old,  at  the  fourth  watch 
of  the  night,  just  the  hour  preceding  day-dawn,  and  not  only 
cheered  the  disciples  with  the  joyful — "  It  is  I" — but  came 
up  arnid  the  toiling  rowers,  hushed  the  storm,  and  conducted 
them  safe  to  shore  ; — so  it  will  be,  at  the  deepest  hour  of  the 
world's  midnight — the  hour  preceding  the  millennial-morn ! 
He  himself  has  forewarned  us  (as  if  He  took  the  very  symbol 
He  employs  from  that  night  at  Gennesaref),  that  when  "  the 
sea  and  the  waves  are  roaring,  and  men's  hearts  are  failing 
them  for  fear,"  then  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  shall  be  seen, — 
"His  way  in  the  sea,  and  His  path  in  the  deep  waters," — and 
the  trembling  Church,  cowering  amid  the  darkness,  will  lift 
up  its  night-song — "  Let  the  sea  roar  and  the  fulness  thereof 
.  .  .  before  the  Lord,  for  He  cometh!  He  cometh!  to  judge 
the  earth." 

Ah  !  we  are  apt,  in  the  midst  of  these  environing  storms, 
which  threaten,  and  shall  yet  still  more  threaten,  the  existence 


26-fc  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

of  the  Church  of  God — we  are  apt  at  times  to  wonder  if  its 
Great  Head  has  forgotten  His  world,  and  forgotten  His  pro- 
mise. There  are  ever  craven  hearts  ready  to  echo  the  de- 
sponding cry — "  Where  is  the  promise  of  His  coming  ?" 
But,  fear  not !  Jesus  has  not  left  the  foundering  vessel  to 
reel  and  plunge  amid  these  moral  tempests  that  are  to  close 
the  great  drama  of  time  !  No  ! — "-  in  the  fourth  watch  of 
the  night" — when  the  darkness  is  thickest  and  the  billows 
highest — "He  that  shall  come,  will  come,  and  will  not  tarry." 
Just  as  the  new  creation  is  about  to  put  on  its  full  robe  of 
morning  light,  He  will  hush  every  billow ;  and  mooring  His 
vessel  on  the  heavenly  shore,  take  His  storm-tossed  Church 

to  be  FOR  EVER  WITH  ITS  LORD. 

Let  us  seek  to  be  in  the  position  of  men  waiting  for  the 
dawn — standing  on  the  deck  with  the  cry  on  our  lips — 
"  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly."  And  when  we  descry 
His  presence  on  the  waves,  let  it  not  be  ours  to  exclaim  in 
terror — He  cometh  !  but  there  is  no  pardon  in  His  voice  ! — 
He  cometh  !  but  there  is  no  mercy  in  His  footstep  !  Eather 
may  we  know  the  music  of  these,  words,  which,  to  all  that 
hear  them,  will  be  as  the  gate  of  heaven — u  IT  is  I — IT  is  I 

— BE  NOT  AFRAID  V 


XVL 


inking 


When  the  waterfloods  of  grief 
Round  my  helpless  head  shall  rise; 
When  there  seemeth  no  relief, 
Lift  your  gaze  to  yonder  skies. 
There  behold  how  radiantly 
Beams  the  star  of  faith  divine ; 
Yesterday  it  shone  for  thee ; 
And  to-day  it  still  shall  shine. 
Ask  no  aid  the  world  can  give ; 
LOOKING  UNTO  JESUS— LIVE  ! 

"  And  Peter  answered  him  and  said,  Lord,  if  it  be  thou,  bid  me  come  unto 
thee  on  the  water.  And  he  said,  Come.  And  when  Peter  was  come  down  out 
of  the  ship,  he  walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to  Jesus.  But  when  he  saw  the 
wind  boisteixms,  he  was  afraid  ;  and,  beginning  to  sink,  he  cried,  saying,  Lord, 
save  me.  And  immediately  Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  caught  him, 
and  said  unto  him,  0  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?  And 
when  they  were  come  into  the  ship,  the  wind  ceased." — MATT.  xiv.  28-32. 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter,  we  considered  that  memorable 
scene  on  the  Lake  of  GALILEE,  when  in  the  midst  of  the 
tempest,  "  toiling  in  rowing,"  the  disciples  were  gladdened 
by  the  joyous  advent  of  their  Lord.  At  first,  terror-stricken 
as  they  saw  the  mysterious  form  on  the  midnight  sea,  but 
calmed  and  quieted  on  hearing  the  familiar  voice  and  the 
reassuring  word. 

In  following  out  the  sequel  to  this  scene,  let  us  direct  our 
thoughts — 

I.  To  the  DISCIPLE  around  whom  the  main  interest  of  the 
present  incident  gathers. 

II.  To  the  SCENE  itself  ;  and 

III.  To  some  of  its  LESSONS. 

I.  The  Disciple  who  forms  the  central  figure,  in  this  gospel 
narrative,  is  one  who  has  impressed  on  him  a  peculiar  and 
powerful  individuality.  There  are  in  his  character,  certain 
strong  and  well-defined  traits — marked  lights  and  shadows 
familiar  to  the  most  unobservant  reader.  Had  no  name 
indeed  been  mentioned  in  this  passage,  we  should  at  once 
have  been  led  to  fix  on  SIMON  as  the  apostle  who  went, 
in  impetuous  haste,  down  from  the  vessel's  side,  braved 
the  stormy  sea — walked  upon  it — sank  in  terror,  and 


268  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

rose  again  in  faith  !  Peter's  is  that  composite  character 
which  one  often  meets  with  in  the  world,  formed  by  a  union 
of  opposites.  Bold,  hasty,  forward,  ardent — a  soul  full  of 
deep  emotion  and  sudden  impulse,  who  in  the  fever  of  the 
moment  would  do  a  brave  and  hazardous  thing  from  which, 
in  a  calmer  mood,  he  would  be  deterred.  Thought  with  him 
was  action.  To  determine  was  to  attain.  In  such  a  mind  as 
his,  to  doubt  would  have  been  a  grave  impropriety.  He  is 
the  David  of  the  New  Testament — soaring  at  one  moment 
with  buoyant  pinion  to  the  skies;  singing  as  he  soars,  "  The 
Lord  is  my  Light  and  my  Salvation,  whom  shall  1  fear  ?" 
The  next,  struggling  a  wounded  bird  on  the  ground — with 
the  plaintive  note,  " My  soul  deaveth  unto  the  dust!"  Or, 
perhaps,  we  may  more  appropriately  liken  him  to  some  of 
David's  mighty  men,  capable  of  a  bold  and  dashing  exploit — 
killing,  at  one  time,  a  lion  in  a  winter  snow-pit — at  another, 
plunging  through  the  slumbering  Philistines,  and  filling  their 
helmets  with  "  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem," — bringing 
the  longed-for  draught  to  their  hero  leader.  If  Peter  had 
been,  like  these — a  soldier  by  profession — he  would  have  been 
suited  for  the  brilliant  sally — the  sudden  foray — the  impetu- 
ous assault  (some  daring  feat  of  arms) — not  for  the  slow, 
wasting,  decimating  siege  and  trench  work.  His  enthusiasm 
and  ardour  (honest  and  sincere  at  the  time)  were  apt  to  be 
damped  in  the  moment  of  trial  and  danger.  For  emergencies 
to  which  he  fancied  himself  equal,  the  event  proved  he  was 
not.  A  child  of  Ephraim-  boldly  "  carrying  his  bow,"  he 
turned  faint  in  the  day  of  battle  !  An  Asahel,  swift  of  foot, 
he  becomes,  in  his  trial-hour,  a  "  Ready- to-halt."  Facing  the 
sullen  visages  of  frowning  Pharisees  and  mailed  Romans, 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  269 

his  countenance  falls — his  knees  tremble.  Imbecile — pusil- 
lanimous— he  sinks  into  the  renegade  and  coward  ! 

Thus,  doubtless,  was  Peter  a  defective  character.  He  had 
great  faults — but  these,  too,  were  softened  and  redeemed  by 
many  noble  compensating  qualities.  Better  all  that  salient 
energy  of  soul — that  warm,  outspoken,  hearty  enthusiasm — 
even  although  it  proved  often  mistimed,  often  rash,  some- 
times culpable  : — better  this,  than  that  cold,  repelling,  phleg- 
matic, pulseless  spirit,  which  never  kindles  into  one  earnest 
or  loving  emotion. 

There  were  other  types  of  character  in  that  very  fishing 
vessel,  perhaps  more  beautiful  and  perfect.  Take  John,  as 
the  ideal  of  the  Christian  man — meek,  calm,  adoring.  His 
befitting  place — the  bosom  of  Jesus  in  his  life,  and  the  cross 
of  Jesus  at  his  death.  His  the  holiest  legacy  ever  bequeathed 
by  filial  love — "Son,  behold  thy  mother! "  His  gentle  heart 
is  like  some  quiet  river,  unrippled  by  one  wave,  mirroring 
the  rich  garniture  of  loveliness  fringing  its  banks,  and  mur- 
muring, as  it  glides  by,  the  tranquil  music  of  love.  Better 
this,  than  the  maddening  torrent,  tearing  over  rock  and  pre- 
cipice, as  it  hurries  to  its  ocean  home.  But  rather  give  me 
that  boisterous  river,  with  its  foam  and  thunder,  its  cataracts 
and  wild  music,  than  the  foetid,  stagnant  pool,  which  sleeps 
on  in  dull  torpid  inaction.  Better  the  fervid,  enthusiastic 
Christian,  than  the  men  of  Meroz — those  who  "  do  nothing ; " 
— the  cold,  timid  calculators — men  of  dull  drowsy  routine  in 
the  religious  life,  in  whose  sight  fervour  and  fanaticism  are 
the  same  things  ;  ever  jealous  of  going  too  far,  never  suspect- 
ing whether  they  may  not  be  going  far  enough  ;  who,  know- 
ing that  it  is  an  apostolic  caution.  "  always  to  be  zealously 


270  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

affected  in  a  good  thing/'  adopt  the  prudent  way  of  avoiding 
blunders  by  not  being  zealously  affected  at  all.  Peter's  faults 
were  the  infirmities  of  a  noble  mind;  and  ere  he  received 
his  crown,  he  became  a  living  testimony  as  to  what  the 
grace  of  God  could  do  in  modifying  natural  temperament. 
Simon,  "  speaking  in  his  Epistles/'  is  another  man  from 
the  impetuous  Fisherman,  on  the  shores  or  on  the  bosom 
of  his  native  lake.  Tradition  represents  him  as  having, 
at  his  own  request,  been  crucified  with  his  head  down- 
wards, in  token  of  humility.  We  may  accept  the  legend, 
at  all  events,  as  has  been  remarked,  as  a  significant  emblem 
of  the  "inversion  of  his  character."  At  the  close  of  his 
existence,  his  old  age  is  like  the  peaceful  subdued  sunset 
which  often  terminates  a  troubled  day  ;  or  like  the  moun- 
tain which,  close  at  hand,  is  torn  and  splintered — ploughed 
up  with  unsightly  scars  by  spring  floods  and  winter  storms. 
But  as  we  recede,  and  the  soft  autumn  evening  tints 
fall  upon  it — the  jagged  outline  is  lost ;  we  see  only  a 
mass  of  mellowed  glory  ! — Such  was  the  evening  of  PETER'S 
life. 

II.  Let  us  consider  the  description  here  given  of  one  of 
these  sudden  impulses  of  this  impulsive  apostle,  harmonising 
as  it  does  so  entirely  with  the  rest  of  his  history  and  character. 

Judging  from  his  peculiar  temperament,  perhaps  when  the 
mysterious  phantom  form  was  first  seen  on  the  waters,  Peter 
may  have  been  the  most  craven-hearted  of  all.  While  the  calm 
John,  or  the  cool,  cautious  Thomas,  may  have  looked  their 
danger  sternly  in  the  face,  he  may  have  seen,  in  the  shadowy 
figure,  nothing  but  the  spirit  of  the  Tempest,  or  the  wings  of 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  271 

the  Angel  of  I)eath,  and  fled,  cowering  in  terror,  to  the  hold 
of  the  vessel.  But  no  sooner  does  he  listen  to  the  comfort- 
ing, "!T  is  I"  than  shame  and  sorrow  overwhelm  him  that 
he  had  been  so  "slow  of  heart,"  and  in  the  very  rebound  from 
faithlessness  to  newly  awakened  joy,  he  resolves  by  an  heroic 
act  to  atone  for  these  moments  of  unworthy  pusillanimity. 
"Lord!"  says  he,  "if  it  be  thou,  bid  me  come  unto  thee  on 
the  water.33 

Even  yet,  however,  his  voice  trembles  as  he  speaks. 
Neither  his  faith  nor  his  motives  will  bear  rigid  scrutiny. 
The  very  word  with  which  he  begins  his  bold  and  presump- 
tuous request  implies  a  secret  doubt ; — "IF  it  be  Thou." 

Ah !  how  often  does  that  guilty  word  mingle  still  in  our  deep 
midnights  of  trial; — questioning  God's  voice,  God's  way,  God's 
will,  God's  loving  wisdom.  How  apt  are  we  to  indulge  in  un- 
kind, unrighteous  surmises  ;  saying,  like  Martha  of  Bethany 
(the  "Peter  of  her  sex"),  when  the  Master  came  to  her  in  the 
midst  of  a  still  darker  tempest,  "Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been 
here,  my  brother  had  not  died?"  Let  us  "be  still  and  know 
that  He  is  God."  There  is  no  room  for  an  "if"  or  a  "why" 
in  all  His  providential  dealings.  Shall  we  own  the  voice 
of  God,  as  we  stand  in  the  outer  world  in  the  loaded  air 
of  summer  noontide,  when  from  the  heavy  clouds  there 
issues  bolt  after  bolt  of  living  thunder?  and  in  the  moral 
world  shall  we  refuse  to  acknowledge  and  adore  the  same? 
Nay;  when  out,  buffeting  the  wintry  sea  of  trial,  "neither 
sun  nor  star  appearing,  and  a  very  great  tempest  lying  upon 
us*/'  while  others  may  only  hear  the  rougher  accents  of  the 
storm,  be  it  ours  to  recognise  the  soft  undertones  of  covenant 
we,  and  to  exclaim  with  one  who  had  alike  Nature,  Prom- 


272  MEMORIES  0* 

dence,  and  Grace  in  his  eye  when  he  penned  his  words:  — 
"The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  upon  the  waters.  The  God  of 
glory  thundereih.  The  Lord  is  upon  many  waters.  The 
voice  of  the  Lord  is  powerful.  The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  full 
of  majesty.  .  .  .  The  Lord  sitteth  upon  the  flood,  yea  the  Lord 
sitteth  king  for  ever.  The  Lord  will  give  strength  unto  his 
people.  The  Lord  will  bless  his  people  with  peace."* 

But  to  return  to  the  narrative : — While  there  was  doubt 
and  misgiving  on  the  part  of  Peter,  in  illustration  of  that 
strange  union  of  opposites  to  which  I  have  referred,  there 
was  in  conjunction  with  these,  boldness  and  presumption. 

His  own  thought,  doubtless,  was  to  make  an  avowal  of  his 
faith,  but  what  he  did  display  was  not  faith,  but  a  base 
counterfeit.  It  was  a  degenerate  semblance  and  figure  of 
the  true.  Rightly  named,  it  was  forwardness,  fool-hardi- 
hood,— the  haughty  spirit,  which  is  inevitably  succeeded  by 
a  fall. 

Let  us  always  be  careful  to  give  things  their  proper  desig- 
nation. Let  us  be  specially  on  our  guard  against  looking  at 
vice  and  virtue  through  a  distorted  medium,  giving  the  name 
of  gold  to  what  may,  after  all,  be  base  alloy;  confounding 
great  heavenly  principles  with  hollow  semblances ;  calling 
evil  good  and  good  evil ;  putting  darkness  for  light  and  light 
for  darkness.  How  often  do  we  hear  revenge  misnamed 
honour  ;  passion,  spirit ;  prodigality,  generosity  ;  free-think- 
ing, liberality;  blasphemy,  wit;  and  presumption,  faith. 
In  the  case  before  us,  we  may  be  apt,  at  first  sight,  to  con- 
fuse and  confound  two  feelings  and  emotions,  in  themselves 
widely  different.  Peter  in  appearance  is  very  magnanimous, 

*  Psalm  xxix.  3,  4.  10,  11. 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  273 

nor  do  we  deny  (his  Lord  Himself  owns  it)  that  there  was  in 
his  bold  deed  a  certain  amount  of  faith  and  confidence  in 
Christ's  ability  and  power.  So  far  his  conduct  was  com- 
mendable ;  but  there  was  more  of  the  reverse — more  of  pride, 
ambition,  rashness. 

His  faith  in  his  Divine  Master  would  have  been  tempered 
with  a  wiser  discretion,  and  a  kindlier  regard  for  the  feelings 
of  others,  had  he  simply  joined  with  his  fellow  apostles  in 
inviting  Jesus  into  their  ship.  But  he  lorded  it  over  them. 
There  was  an  implied  assumption  of  superiority  in  the  per- 
sonal request,  "Sid  ME/'  We  could  not  even  have  quarrelled 
with  his  conditional  "If,"  had  he  put  it  in  the  form,  "If  it 
be  thy  will,  Lord/'  But  with  a  rashness  similar  to  that  which 
drew  down  an  after  rebuke,  when  unbidden  he  cut  off  the 
ear  of  Malchus,  he  utters,  on  his  own  authority,  arid  more  in 
the  tone  of  a  mandate  than  a  proposal,  "BiD  me  come." 
There  is  a  struggle  for  pre-eminence,  a  craving  to  win  the 
highest  encomium  from  his  Master.  He  would  wish  to  make 
himself  out  the  boldest  and  bravest  of  the  apostle-crew.  It 
is  the  saying  and  the  failing  of  a  future  occasion  put  in 
another  form  and  other  words — "Though  all  be  offended, 
yet  shall  not  1."  * 

Doubtless,  had  an  injunction  to  leave  the  vessel  emanated 
from  the  lips  of  Christ,  it  would  have  been  alike  his  duty 
and  hi.s  joy  to  obey  ;  there  would  then  have  been  no  sinking, 
no  faltering.  If  the  Lord  had  "given  the  word"  He  would 
have  made  Peter's  "  feet  like  hinds'  feet,"  and  set  him  upon 
these  "  high  places."  But  this  frail  worm  himself  takes  the 
initiative.  He  makes  his  own  will  and  wish  antecedent  to 

*  See  Trench,  in  loc. 
8 


274  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESABET. 

the  vtill  of  his  Lord,  and  he  must  pay  the  penalty  of  his  pre- 
sumptuous daring. 

Let  us  beware  of  such  a  spirit ; — this  love  of  pre-eminence ; 
— this  exalting  our  own  reputation  or  good  name  at  the  ex- 
pense of  others.  "Be  not  high-minded,  but  fear."  "Let  him 
that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall."  Abnegation 
of  self  is  one  of  the  most  beauteous  offshoots  of  humility; 
and  Humility,  remember,  is  the  loveliest  plant  in  the  heavenly 
garden.  The  Lord  of  the  garden  delights  to  tend  it  and 
nurture  it.  The  man  on  the  white  horse  in  Zechariah/s 
vision,*  rode  among  the  myrtle  trees,  which  were  in  the  bottom 
of  the  valley,  not  amid  the  oaks  of  Bashan  or  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon.  The  sweetest  note  of  the  lark,  though  she  loves 
to  carol  in  the  sky,  is  said  to  be  when  she  alights  in  her  nest 
in  the  furrow.  Let  us  seek  the  shade — not  being  wise  in 
our  own  conceits ;  but  "in  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem 
other  better  than  themselves/'5 

How  kindly  and  considerately  does  Jesus  deal  with  this 
bold  and  rash,  yet  ardent  and  devoted  man.  "Lord,  bid  me 
come"  He  forbids  him  not.  Had  he  done  so,  there  would 
have  been  lost  to  Peter  the  most  valuable  lesson  his  Master 
ever  taught  him.  Jesus  uses  the  present  opportunity  to  dis- 
cipline him  by  his  failure  to  become,  as  he  afterwards  did 
become,  a  spiritual  giant  and  hero ;.  out  of  his  very  weakness 
He  made  him  strong  ! 

Our  Lord,  as  Man,  had  His  own  likings  and  partialities 
for  individual  character ;  and  though  that  of  John  was  pro- 
bably cast  in  the  human  mould  most  resembling  His  own, 
yet  His  personal  attachment  to  Peter  is  undoubted.  He 

*  Zechariah  i.  8. 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  275 

seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  training  him,  just  as  a  faithful 
teacher  takes  special  pleasure  and  pains  in  the  training  of  an 
eager,  ardent,  impetuous  child,  or  a  faithful  husbandman  in 
cleansing  a  fruitful,  grateful  soil  of  redundant  and  noxious 
weeds. 

Peter  makes  his  request.  A  single  word  is  all  he  gets  in 
reply.  The  same  voice  which,  a  few  moments  before,  gently 
quieted  by  a  threefold  assurance  the  fears  of  all  the  affrighted 
crew,  says,  in  answer  to  the  bold  outspoken  ONE — "  COME  !  " 
He  does  not  refuse,  but  neither  does  He  give  any  warrant  or 
promise  of  upholding  power.  Peter  had  said  "Bid  me;" 
Christ  does  not  say  "/  bid."  Peter  had  said  "on  the  water." 
Jesus  speaks  of  no  footway  there.  Peter  had  said  "  unto 
thee  ;"  Jesus  gives  no  such  invitation.  *  He  utters  only  the 
one  indefinite  word,  "  COME  •  "  "  Come,"  he  seems  to  say, 
"  bold  one,  make  trial  of  thy  strength  ;  come  if  thou  canst ; 
but  it  is  on  thine  own  risk  and  responsibility;  I  give  no 
pledge  or  warrant  of  success  to  thy  carnal  presumption." 

He  does  come  !  He  descends  the  side  of  the  lurching 
vessel — the  next  moment  his  feet  are  on  the  unstable  waves. 
His  faith  is  for  the  moment  strong,  and  fixing  his  counte- 
nance on  his  great  Redeemer,  he  travels  in  safety  along  that 
strangest  of  pathways.  But  a  wandering  eye  is  the  first 
symptom  of  a  mournful  reverse.  He  turns  his  face  from 
Christ ;  he  transfers  his  glance  to  the  rolling  waves  at  his 
feet,  and  the  storm  sighing  overhead.  "  When  he  saw  the 
wind  boisterous  he  was  afraid."  It  was  no  new  tempest  that 
had  sprung  up ;  the  sea  was  not  opening  its  mouth  wider 
than  before  ;  the  sky  was  no  blacker ;  the  hurricane  no 

*  See  Stier  aud  Trench. 


276  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

louder  ;  the  waves  were  beating  as  high  when  he  first  sallied 
forth.  But  with  his  eya  and  his  heart  on  the  Lord  of  the  storm, 
he  had  no  room  then  for  a  thought  of  danger.  Now  it  was 
different.  Gazing  on  the  tempestuous  elements,  he  trembled 
at  his  own  courage.  He  took  his  eye  off  the  secret  of  his 
support,  and  down  he  sank  like  lead  in  that  raging  sea. 

All !  Peter  is  here  a  living  impersonation  of  UNBELIEF, 
which  is  nothing  else  but  a  diversion  of  the  Soul's  Eye  from 
God — a  looking  to  the  creature — to  the  world — to  sight — to 
self — to  sense — and  ignoring  the  great  Creator,  the  Blessed 
Redeemer,  and  the  things  Unseen  I  The  disciple,  while  he 
retained  his  faith,  saw  no  waves  and  heard  no  winds.  The 
disciple,  faithless,  with  his  eye  turned  from  his  Lord,  was 
awoke  to  the  reality  of  the  maddening  elements  around  him; 
and  then  the  Lord  left  him  to  taste  the  fruits  of  his  rash 
overbolduess.  Like  Samson,  he  is  shorn  of  his  strength. 
Like  that  champion  of  Israel,  he  says,  "  /  will  yo  out  as  at 
other  times  and  shake  myself."  But  unbelief  has  caused 
his  "strength  to  go  from  him,  co  that  he  has  become  weak  as 
another  man." 

But  pass  we  now  to  a  more  favourable  turn  in  Peter's  case. 
It  has  been  said  that  he  is  the  most  gifted  general — not  who 
achieves  most  victories,  but  who  is  able  to  retrieve  his  errors ; 
and  effect  triumphs  out  ot  untoward  misfortunes  and  mis- 
takes. Peter  had  presumed — faltered — was  fast  sinking.  Is 
he  to  let  the  opportunity  go  without  seeking,  by  some  strong 
effort,  to  retrieve  his  honour,  and  convert  that  midnight-sea 
into  a  moral  battle-field  where  a  great  fall  and  loss  is  to  be 
converted  into  a  great  victory  ?  Is  the  bird  taken  in  the  net 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  277 

spread  by  itself  not  to  make  a  bold  attempt  to  penetrate  the 

meshes  and  soar  to  his  native  sky  ?     Yes  !  as  unbelief  sank 

him.  so  faith  is  to  raise  him  again.     How  is  he  raised?     He 

honours  Christ  throughout  in  this  memorable  crisis.     He 

might  have  dreamt  at  that  moment  of  other  ways  of  extri* 

eating  himself  from  his  peril.     Was  there  no  rope  in  the 

hold  of  the   boat  ?     Could  he  not  have  asked  one  of  the 

Apostle  rowers  to  stretch  him  one  of  those  oars  with  which,  a 

few  minutes  before,  they  had  been  toiling  in  vain  to  make 

head   against  the  storm  ?     Or,  where   was   his   natural  or 

acquired  skill  in  swimming,   of  which  we  read  afterwards, 

when  near  the  beach  of  that  same  lake  on  a  later  occasion, 

he  plunged  headlong  into  the  water  and  swam  manfully 

ashore !  *      But    he   resorts   to    none   of   these   expedients. 

Having   dishonoured   Jesus    by   distrusting   Him,    he    will 

honour  him  once  more  by  fresh  confidence  in  His  power  and 

love.    "  None  but  Christ"  is  His  motto.    His  cry,  "  LORD,  save 

me,  else  I  perish  !  "     Not  all  the  props  you  can  employ  can 

raise  up  the  battered  down-trodden  flower  so  well  as  the 

genial  sunshine.     So  this  drooping  flower  turns  his  leaves  to 

the  Great  Sun  of  Righteousness.     The  Apostle  is  sinking — 

but  even  "  as  he  sinks,  he  sinks  looking  unto  Jesus." 

And  as  the  Servant  honoured  his  Master — as  the  Disciple 
honoured  his  Lord — so  does  the  Lord  and  Master  honour 
him  and  deal  tenderly  with  him  in  return. 

He  might  have  righteously  left  him  for  a  while  in  his 
anguish  and  trepidation,  to  feel  the  consequences  of  his  rash- 
ness. With  the  horrors  of  death  taking  hold  on  him,  He 
might  have  addressed  him  in  words  of  cutting  rebuke  and 

*  John  xxi.  7. 


278  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

upbraiding  But  He  will  first  restore  His  confidence. 
"  IMMEDIATELY  Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  caught 
him."  The  Lord's  hand  was  not  shortened  that  it  could  not 
save.  Peter's  experience  was  that  of  the  Psalmist — "  When 
my  foot  slipped,  THY  mercy,  0  Lord,  held  me  up ! " 

And  now  comes  the  gentle  rebuke.  It  would  not  have 
been  well  for  Peter — it  would  not  have  been  well  for  the 
Church  of  the  future,  which  was  to  read  and  ponder  this 
scene — had  the  salutary  needed  reproof  been  allowed  to  pass. 
Gentle,  however,  it  was  !  He  does  not  address  him  as  the 
presumptuous  unbeliever — neither  does  He  reprimand  him 
for  making  the  attempt  to  come.  This  might  have  had  the 
effect  of  damping  his  energies  for  bolder  deeds  yet  in  reserve 
for  him.  Thus  is  he  addressed  by  Him  who  "  breaketh  not 
the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  eth-  the  smoking  flax  " — "  0  thou 
of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?''  That  sensitive 
heart  required  no  harsh  or  severe  word  to  enforce  the  appeal. 
A  look,  you  will  remember — a  glance  of  impressive  silence, 
yet  of  deep  significancy — afterwards  covered  his  face  with 
bitter  tears.  So  now,  that  one  brief  question  would  bring 
before  him  the  memory  of  a  hundred  former  acts  of  love  and 
power,  all  of  which  would  aggravate  the  unkindness  of  dis- 
trusting that  Gracious  Saviour.  It  was  equivalent  to  saying, 
"  Peter  !  after  all  that  I  have  done  for  thee  in  the  past,  why 
hast  thou  now  dishonoured  me  ? — why  refuse  reliance  now 
on  my  all-powerful  arm  ?  I  still  acknowledge  thou  ha.st 
faith — but  in  this  critical  emergency  it  has  shewn  itself  to  be 
small.  Wherefore  hast  thou  wounded  me  so  by  this  un- 
worthy doubting  ? " 

The  accused  is  slent.      He  attempts  no  reply.     Perhaps 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  279 

his  tears  forbid  it.  Doubtless  he  returned  to  the  vessel  a 
humbled  man.  It  was  a  night  which  to  his  dying  hour 
would  be  much  remembered.  Yet  could  it  fail  to  rivet  his 
affections  more  strongly  than  ever  around  that  Saviour  ?  If 
we  put  a  "  Song  of  the  Night "  into  his  lips;  may  it  not  be 
appropriately  that  of  the  Great  Prophet — "  Behold,  God  is 
my  salvation.  I  will  trust  and  not  be  afraid,  for  the  Lord 
Jehovah  is  my  strength  and  my  song.  He  also  is  become  my 
salvation." 

Let  us  now  ponder  one  or  two  of  the  practical  lessons 
suggested  by  this  subject,  though  these  indeed  have  already 
been  so  far  anticipated. 

I.  We  learn  that  Faith  and  fear  may  be  found  existing 
together  in  the  minds  of  God's  children,  and  that  we  must 
not  make  the  existence  of  doubts  and  misgivings  an  evidence 
that  we  have  no  faith. 

That  Peter  had  faith,  notwithstanding  his  distrust  and 
fear,  is  obvious.  It  was  faith,  though  mingled  with  other 
lower  motives,  which  led  him  to  venture  on  the  water.  It 
was  Faith  which,  as  he  was  sinking,  prompted  the  prayer, 
'•Lord,  save  me."  And  in  his  rebuke  Christ  recognises  the 
existence  of  faith,  though  he  speaks  of  it  as  small,  "0  thou 
of  little  faith/' 

From  this,  the  desponding  child  of  God  may  draw  a  lesson 
of  consolation  and  encouragement.  Ye  whose  souls  are 
harassed  with  fears  ; — who  are  mourning  over  the  coldness  of 
your  love,  the  weakness  of  your  graces,  the  languor  of  your 
spiritual  frame,  learn  here  not  to  argue  from  the  existence  of 


280  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

doubt,  that  faith  must  be  wanting  or  cannot  be  real.     True 
it  is,  the  further  you  advance  in  the  Divine  life  the  greater 
your  faith  will  be,  and  the  fewer  will  be  your  doubts.     But 
Christ  here  does  not  refuse  to  stretch  out  an  arm  of  mercy 
to  one  of  little  faith.     If  you  have  faith  only  as  a  grain  of 
mustard  seed,  it  tells  what  spirit  you  are  of.     For  this  is  no 
plant  of  earthly  growth  that  will  blossom  spontaneously  in 
the  soil  of  the  unregenerate  heart, — it  is  "  not  of  yourselves,  it 
is  the  gift  of  God."     The  Bible  speaks  of  various  degrees  of 
Faith.     And  there  are  different  figures  employed  to  denote 
the  operation  of  this  great  principle.     Its  first  and  simples i 
act  is  represented  as  a  "Looking  to  Christ,"  then  a  "coming 
to  Christ,"  a  "receiving  Christ,"  a  "laying  hold  of  Christ" 
a  "cleaving"  to   Christ,  a  "trusting"  in  Christ.      But  the 
lowest  in  this  scale,  provided  it  be  a  real  faith,  gives  a  sinner 
an  interest  in  Jesus  and  his  salvation,  as  well  as  the  highest. 
The  faith  of  the  "weak"  as  well  as  of  the  "strong"  rests  on 
the  same  one  Foundation.     But  mistake  us  not !     We  mean 
not  to  say  that  because  the  smallest  degree  or  measure  of 
faith  is  an  index  of  spiritual  life,  that  therefore  there  is  no 
need  of  further  degrees  of  it.     If  there  be  true  faith,  it  must, 
like  every  other  Christian  principle,   be  progressive.     This 
must  be  the  prayer  of  every  heart  in  which  that  grace  is  real, 
"Lord,  increase  my  faith."     While  with  holy  humble  grati- 
tude we  can  say,  "Lord,  we  believe,"  we  must  ever  be  adding, 
"Help  thou  our  unbelief" 

II.  We  are  taught  here  the  great  cause  of  all  the  doubts 
and  misgivings  of  Gods  people.  It  is,  as  in  the  case  of 
Peter,  a  want  of  dependence  on  Christ. 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  281 

We  have  seen  when  that  ardent  Disciple  first  ventured  on 
the  watery  element  his  footing  was  firm,  because  his  faith  in 
his  Lord's  power  was  firm  ;  but  so  soon  as  his  eye  was  turned 
from  his  heavenly  Master  on  the  boisterous  elements  around, 
then  faith  failed,  and  he  began  to  sink !  What  was  the  secret 
of  Paul's  boldness  amid  his  great  fight  of  afflictions  ?  It  was 
keeping  the  undeviating  eye  of  Faith  fixed  on  that  same 
glorious  Redeemer.  With  a  martyr's  stake  casting  its  shadow 
on  his  path,  or  with  the  rage  of  Nero's  lions  in  his  ear,  he 
could  exclaim,  "  None  of  these  things  move  me." 

Is  it  not  even  so  with  us?  Why  is  it  that  we  who  once, 
it  may  be,  were  confident  in  the  Lord's  faithfulness,  and  who 
stood  firm,  like  a  rock  in  the  waters,  against  the  temptations 
that  were  assailing  us,  may  now  be  unable  to  resist  their 
force?  Is  it  not  because  we  have  turned  away  the  eye  of 
faith  from  a  reigning  Saviour,  and  fixed  it  on  the  troubles 
and  tumults  and  dangers  around ;  reasoned  about  the  strength 
of  our  temptations  and  the  severity  of  our  trials,  the  great- 
ness of  our  difficulties,  and  the  imminency  of  our  dangers — 
forgetful  of  that  blessed  truth  that  Christ  is  able  to  save  to 
the  uttermost  ?  We  have  doubted  His  ability  and  distrusted  His 
faithfulness,  and  He  has  now  left  us  to  feel  "how  frail  we  are." 

III.  We  learn  from  this  narrative — What  is  the  source  of 
relief  to  the  sinking  soul,  in  its  times  of  troubles  and  fear. 
It  is  Christ  himself — a  renewed  application  to  Him  as  a 
Saviour. 

You  remember  the  well-known  incident  in  old  Roman 
story,  when,  in  crossing  a  strait  in  the  hour  of  maddening 
storm,  coward  hearts  were  tortured  with  terror,  as  they  lis- 


282  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

tened  to  creaking  planks  in  their  tiny  vessel.  The  sea  was 
lashing  over  them  ; — their  eyes  were  dimmed  with  the  blind- 
ing spray ; — Death  seemed  to  sit  on  every  crested  wave.  A 
voice  from  one  of  noble  mien,  sitting  wrapt  in  a  military 
cloak  by  the  stern,  blended  with  the  accents  of  the  storm — - 
"  The  Bark  cannot  sink  which  carries  Caesar  and  his  fortunes ! " 
It  was  enough.  The  revelation  of  the  imperial  presence  and 
the  imperial  word  was  like  oil  cast  on  the  fretful  sea.  Their 
courage  rose  ; — with  undaunted  souls  they  buffetted  its  waves, 
and  were  ere  long  on  the  wished-for  shore. 

Reader,  in  the  midst  of  your  earthly  troubles,  turn  in  self- 
oblivion  to  the  Heavenly  Pilot.  A  nobler  than  Cassar  is  at 
your  side !  He  tells  you  that  there  is  nothing  to  fear — that 
there  shall  be  no  loss  of  any  man's  life — no,  not  even  of  the 
ship — but  that  you  shall  all  get  "  safe  to  land. "  If  duty  has 
called  you  out  to  the  troubled  waters,  let  Faith — that  divine 
principle — believing,  trusting,  honouring  Jesus  —  bear  you 
up  amid  every  difficulty  and  every  danger.  Say  with  this 
same  Apostle  on  another  memorable  occasion,  "Lord,  to 
whom  can  I  go  but  unto  Thee  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life  ;  "  or  with  another  sinking  castaway,  "  Why  art 
thou  cast  down,  0  my  soul  ?  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
within  me  ?  Hope  thou  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him 
who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance." 

IV.  Let  us  here  note  the  means  by  which  this  application 
is  made  and  final  deliverance  obtained.  It  is  PRAYER — 
"LORD,  SAVE  me,  I  perish." 

How  delightful  to  think  that  amid  all  the  troubles  of  the 

O 

world  without,  and  all  the  tumults  of  the  heart  within,  a 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  283 

Saviour's  ear  is  ever  open — the  gates  to  a  Throne  of  grace 
are  never  shut !  Yes,  though  we  may  be  conscious  that 
much  of  our  doubt,  and  darkness,  and  despondency  can  bo 
traced  to  nothing  but  our  own  faithlessness — though  we  may 
be  conscious  that  we  have  ourselves  roused  the  storm  which 
ever  and  anon  may  be  desolating  our  hearts — there  is  yet 
room  for  calling  upon  Him  who  can  say  to  the  storms 
within  as  to  the  storms  without,  Peace — be  still ;  and  no 
tempest-tossed  spirit  in  its  sinking  moments  ever  applied  to 
Him  for  help,  and  applied  in  vain. 

Are  there  any  reading  these  pages  thus  tossed  with  tem- 
pest and  refusing  to  be^  comforted ; — whose  faith  is  weak — • 
whose  hearts  are  desponding — whose  love  is  cold — who  are 
mourning  over  the  departure  of  seasons  of  spiritual  light, 
and  liberty,  and  joy  ?  Let  your  hour  of  doubt  and  trembling 
be  turned  into  an  hour  of  prayer.  You  may  have  changed 
in  your  love  to  your  Redeemer — forgotten  and  forsaken  Him 
— rejected  His  grace,  and  distrusted  His  faithfulness — but 
He  is  unchanged  in  His  love  towards  you.  The  storm  may 
have  hid  His  face,  but  He  is  as  near  you  as  He  was  to  Peter 
of  old.  For  you  there  is  still  open,  what  there  was  to  the 
sinking  disciple — a  Throne  of  grace !  Go  with  the  cry,  "  Lord, 
save  me,  I  perish ; " — and  you  will  find  that  the  hour  of  sup- 
plication will  be  turned,  as  with  him,  into  an  hour  of  deliver- 
ance. For  "  IMMEDIATELY  Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand 
and  caught  him." 

0  wondrous  power  of  Prayer !  What  miracles,  what 
triumphs  does  it  accomplish  !  It  has  turned  the  volleyed 
lightning  in  its  path.  It  has  scared  away  the  brooding 
pestilence.  It  has  unlocked  the  brazen  gates  of  the 


284  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

sky,  and  brought  down  floods  on  the  thirsty  soil.  It  has 
smoothed  the  pillow  of  sickness.  It  has  dried  the  widow's 
tears,  and  filled  the  mouths  of  her  orphans.  It  has  brought 
back  the  wandering  prodigal  to  his  Father's  hearth  and 
home.  It  has  wrestled  with  an  angel,  and  prevailed.  It 
has  arrested  the  ear  and  moved  the  arm  of  Omnipotence. 
The  telescope  has  with  giant  bound  scaled  the  stars  and 
traversed  Immensity.  The  electric  spark  can  now  conduct 
its  winged  messages  from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  continent  to 
continent.  It  can  stay  armies  on  their  march,  and  silence 
the  thunders  of  battle,  and  give  the  momentous  word  and 
will  on  which  depends  the  fate  of  thrones  and  the  destinies 
of  nations.  But  what  is  that  to  a  power  which  transmits 
messages  from  the  lips  of  the  finite  creature  to  the  presence- 
chamber  of  the  Infinite  God  ? — finding  its  way  where  the  eye 
has  never  roamed,  the  telescope  never  reached,  science  with 
its  lightning-pinions  never  soared — penetrating  the  gates, 
unlocking  the  garners  of  Heaven. 

Do  we  know  this  Power  of  Prayer  ?  Feeling  that  we  are 
perishing,  have  we  sent  up  a  cry  for  help  to  that  God  who  is 
a  refuge  to  His  people  in  every  time  of  trouble.  If  so,  He 
will  send  help  out  of  His  holy  hill  of  Zion.  Why  is  it  that 
our  prayers  seem  so  frequently  to  go  unanswered — that, 
despite  of  them  all,  we  feel  that  we  are  sinking  still  ?  Is  it 
not  because  they  are  not  the  cries  of  those  who  feel  their 
awful  and  affecting  need  of  Christ,  and  are  really  desirous 
that  His  hand  be  stretched  out  for  their  rescue.  Let  us  go 
with  the  publican's  lowly  spirit,  and  with  the  sinking  dis- 
ciple's importunate  entreaty,  '  Lord,saveme.I^)crish!  Lord, 
I  look  to  thee  for  safety.  There  is  no  safety  in  myself.  I 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  285 

feel  that  I  am  a  lost  undone  sinner,  and  unless  plucked 
from  the  billows  of  sin,  I  shall  perish  everlastingly.  But, 
Lord,  from  the  depths  I  cry  to  Thee  ;  help  Thou  me,  0 
Thou  helper  of  the  helpless  !  Shew  me  that  '  man's  extre- 
mity is  God's  opportunity/"  and  then,  as  surely  as  in  the 
case  of  Peter,  Jesus  will  stretch  forth  His  hand.  It  may  not 
be,  as  with  him,  "  immediately."  But  "  the  Lord  is  good  to 
them  that  wait  for  him,  unto  the  soul  that  seeketh  him." 
"  Wait  on  the  Lord,  be  of  good  courage,  and  he  WILL 
strengthen  thine  heart.  Wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord." 

V.  We  learn,  from  the  narrative  before  us,  that  distrust  in 
Christ's  faithfulness  is  displeasing  to  Him. — Jesus  BE- 
BUKED  him,  saying,  "  0  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst 
thou  doubt  ?"  That  question,  we  have  seen,  carried  an  arrow 
of  deep  conviction  to  Peter's  heart.  He  dared  not  answer  it. 
His  silence  told  how  deeply  it  was  felt !  And  does  not  that 
same  question  ring  reproachfully  in  many  of  our  ears  ;  if  we  are 
now  surrounded  with  trial  or  temptation, — disposed  to  ques- 
tion or  distrust  the  Kedeemer's  faithfulness.  "  Wherefore/'' 
He  seems  to  say,  "  Oh,  wherefore,  unbelieving  one,  dost  thou 
doubt  ?  Carry  thine  eye  back  on  thy  past  history,  and  dost 
thou  not  remember  the  hours  when  thou  didst  taste  of  my 
faithfulness  and  mercy ;  when  my  candle  did  shine  upon 
thy  head,  and  my  peace  lighted  up  thy  soul  with  a  joy  infi- 
nite as  heaven  ?  Look  back,  and  is  not  thy  pilgrimage 
journey  crowded  with  Ebenezers,  telling  that  the  Lord  hath 
helped  thee  ?  Dost  thou  not  remember  the  hour  of  trouble 
when  I  wiped  thy  tears  ;  the  hour  of  temptation  when  I  dis- 
pelled thy  foes  ;  the  night  of  affliction  when  I  soothed  thy 


286  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

sorrows,  and  whispered  peace  when  all  around  was  death ; 
the  hour  of  prayer  and  the  season  of  communion,  when  I 
made  the  House  of  God  as  the  very  gate  of  heaven  ?  And  if 
darkness  and  tempest  have  now  succeeded — if  the  calm  has 
been  changed  into  a  storm,  and  I  seem  to  have  hid  my  face, 
Oh,  wherefore  dost  thcu  doubt?  Ought  not  my  faithfulness 
in  the  past,  to  be  an  encouragement  for  the  future — a  pledge 
and  assurance  that  I  will  never  fail  thee  nor  forsake  thee?" 

We  learn  again,  from  the  deliverance  vouchsafed  to  the 
sinking  disciple,  that  there  is  no  situation  in  which  Christ 
is  not  willing  and  able  to  help  us. 

When  did  He  come  to  Peter  and  to  his  fellow  voyagers  ? 
It  was  "  about  the  fourth  watch  of  the  night"  while  morning 
had  scarce  begun  to  dawn,  and  all  nature  was  sunk  in 
slumber!  And  who,  after  the  toils  of  the  preceding  day, 
would  have  felt  these  slumbers  more  sweet,  or  nature's  rest 
more  refreshing,  than  the  weary  Man  of  Sorrows  ?  But  He 
who  had  gone  to  the  lonely  mountain  top,  to  seek  a  couch  of 
rest,  when  elsewhere  he  had  none,  willingly  forsook  even 
this,  to  come  to  the  help  of  His  beloved  disciples!  What 
does  this  tell  us,  but  that  we  can  never  go  out  of  season  to 
Christ ; — that  there  is  not  the  hour  in  which  He  is  inac- 
cessible to  our  wants,  or  will  refuse  to  give  us  help  ;  that 
there  is  not  the  danger  from  which  He  cannot  extricate  us  ; 
nor  the  trial  which  He  will  not  overrule  for  the  strengthen- 
ing of  our  faith.  He  is  able  to  save — He  is  willing  to  save. 
None  are  beyond  the  reach  of  His  abounding  grace  and 
mercy.  As  the  ocean  supports  a  navy  as  easily  as  the  bubble 
on  the  breaker,  or  the  sea  bird  sitting  on  its  crested  foam ; 


THE  SINKING  DISCIPLE.  287 

as  the  earth  supports  the  everlasting  hills,  as  easily  as  the 
tiny  grass  which  clothes  its  sides,  or  the  cattle  which  browse 
on  them ;  so  Jesus  can  save  great  and  small ;  He  is  the 
spiritual  Atlas  carrying  a  ruined  world.  In  the  season  of  our 
deepest  extremity,  even  when,  like  the  apostle,  we  may  seem 
on  the  brink  of  perishing, — the  waves  of  destruction  about  to 
close  over  us, — with  such  a  Saviour  there  is  no  room  to 
despair. 

Finally,  we  have  here  a  lesson  of  rebuke  and  warning  : 
Christ  calls  Peter's  "  a  little  faith."  And  yet,  weak  and 
faithless  as  he  was,  when  we  read  this  narrative,  how 
are  we  overwhelmed  and  abased  when  we  think  of  the 
poverty  and  meagreness  of  our  faith,  when  compared  even 
with  that  of  the  sinking  disciple  ?  We  behold  him  in  that 
hour  of  tempest,  stepping  i1o-,\n  from  the  vessel  and  commit- 
ting himself  to  the  raging  waters.  He  hears  his  Lord's 
voice,  and,  fearless  of  danger,  travels  along  the  unstable 
element  to  throw  himself  at  His  feet.  We  see,  in  the  same 
moment,  courage,  ardour,  prayer,  love,  devotedness  ;  and  yet 
the  Saviour  reproves  him,  and  his  silence  tells  that  he  felt 
the  rebuke  was  no  more  than  was  due.  Surely  if  this  could 
only  be  called  a  "  little  faith/'  what  must  He  who  so  deno- 
minated it,  think  of  ours  ? — when  many  of  us  can  tell  of 
lives  that  present  one  sad  history  of  doubt,  and  distrust,  and 
faithlessness — prayerless,  careless,  godless  seasons,  when  the 
veriest  vanities  are  cleaved  to  in  preference  to  Christ,  and 
we  rush  to  every  Saviour  but  the  one  who  died  for  us. 

Do  not  let  us  harshly  and  censoriously  deal  with  Peter 
until  we  have  "  considered  ourselves."  Let  us  look  at  his 


288  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

frailties  side  by  side  with  our  own.  Our  judgment  on  the 
apostle  may  well  be  tempered  with  mercy — our  judgment  on 
ourselves  may  well  be  mingled  with  shame.  Let  us  be 
equally  noble,  as  he  was,  in  our  avowal  of  attachment  to  our 
Great  Lord.  Let  us  be  equally  ready,  when  we  stumble  and 
fall,  for  his  baptism  of  bitter  tears.  Let  us  be  equally  reso- 
lute in  spirit  for  his  martyr-death.  If  God  send  us  mid- 
nights of  trial,  let  these  be  hallowed  and  consecrated  to  us, 
as  they  were  to  him,  by  a  more  loving  trust  in  that  loving- 
Saviour — leading  us  the  more  fondly  to  welcome  the  Lord's 
voice  upon  the  waters,  and  to  take  as  our  motto  and  watch- 
word for  all  the  contingencies  of  an  unknown  future,  "  WHAT 

TIME  I  AM  AFEAID,  I  WILL  TKUST  IN  THEE." 


XVII. 


Ungrateful  sinner  !  on  thy  future  rests 

A  sadder  heritage  of  guilt  and  shame, 
Who  with  abounding  gospel  mercies  blest 

Dare  spurn  the  Saviour's  grace  and  scorn  His  Name; 
Forget  net,  though  His  patience  now  endures, 
The  heathen's  hell  will  be  a  heaven  to  yours  ! 

"And  thou,  CAPERNAUM,  which  art  exalted  unto  heaven,  shalt  be  brought  down 
to  hell :  for  if  the  mighty  works,  which  have  been  done  in  thce,  had  been  done 
in  Sodom,  it  would  have  remained  until  this  day.  But  I  say  unto  you,  That  it 
shall  be  more  tolerable  for  the  land  of  Sodom  in  the  day  of  judgment  than  for 
thee."— MATT.  xi.  23,  24. 


THE  DOOMED  CITY. 

WHILE  following,  in  the  preceding  chapters,  the  Saviour's 
footsteps  on  GENNESAEET,  with  no  name  or  spot,  in  all  the 
favoured  region,  have  we  been  more  familiar  than  with 
CAPERNAUM.  His  ever  memorable  sojourn  within  its  walls, 
is  now,  however,  speedily  to  terminate.  Along  with  other 
Hebrew  Pilgrims,  He  is  about  to  proceed  to  the  City  of  solem- 
nities, in  order  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  Tabernacles. 

But  ere  He  leaves  its  gates,  He  must  utter  in  its  hearing 
a  solemn  monition — a  thrilling  denunciation,  over  unrequited 
love  and  guilty  impenitence.  He  looks  down  the  vista  of 
ages  to  that  solemn  day  when  cities  and  their  inhabitants 
shall  throng  the  area  of  the  Great  Tribunal,  and  when  He  who 
holds  the  balances  in  His  hand  will  deal  out,  with  unerring 
equity,  to  each  and  all,  their  respective  sentences. 

It  is  not  often  that  JESUS — the  meek,  and  gentle,  and  tender 
Saviour — speaks  in  accents  of  stern  wrath  and  upbraiding ; 
we  may  well  believe  He  never  uttered  one  needlessly  harsh 
word.  When  we  behold  Him,  therefore,  as  the  Minister  of 
Justice,  standing  with  the  flaming  sword  in  His  hand,  pro- 
claiming "terrible  things  in  righteousness " — "HE  THAT 

HATH  AN  EAE  TO  HEAK,  LET  HIM  HEAR!" 

We  have  these  three  points  brought  before  us  for  consider- 
ation in  this  solemn  address  of  our  Lord: — 


292  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

I  CAPERNAUM'S  privileges.  . 
II.  CAPERNAUM'S  neglect. 
III.  CAPERNAUM'S  doom. 

I.  "  And  thoit-,  Capernaum,  which  art  exalted  unto  heaven" 
We  reject  the  interpretation  put  upon  this  clause  by  some 
of  the  older  writers,  that  it  has  reference  to  the  worldly  pro- 
sperity of  the  city  as  the  great  sea-port  of  Gennesaret ;  still 
more,  another,  that  the  allusion  is  to  its  elevated  natural  site. 
It  is,  undoubtedly,  in  a  spiritual  sense  Christ  speaks.  His 
reference  is  to  CAPERNAUM'S  exaltation  in  unprecedented  and 
unparalleled  religious  privilege. 

Of  all  the  cities  in  Palestine,  none  was  in  this  respect  more 
exalted  (nay  so  exalted)  as  this  town  of  Galilee.  Bethlehem 
was  "  exalted"  as  the  scene  of  the  Manger,  and  of  the  Seraphim 
who  sang  the  advent-hymn  of  the  Prince  of  Peace*  Nazareth 
was  "exalted"  as  the  home  of  His  youth  :  imagination  loves 
to  watch  in  this  little  city,  nestling  amid  its  picturesque  hills, 
the  unfoldings  of  that  wondrous  Humanity; — to  follow  Him  as 
He  climbed  in  mysterious  boyhood  these  sunny  slopes,  or 
toiled  in  the  lowly  workshop  of  His  reputed  father.  Jerusa- 
lem was  "exalted"  as  the  scone  of  more  thrilling  and  august 
events.  It  witnessed  the  awful  termination  of  the  drama  of 
love  and  suffering — the  Agony — the  Cross — the  Grave — 
the  Resurrection.  But  if  we  would  select  the  most  instruc- 
tive chapter  in  the  Great  Biography, — that  which  contains 
the  most  thorough  manifestation  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  we 
must  seek  it  in  CAPERNAUM  ; — we  must  linger  in  its  streets, 
or  frequent  the  mountain  slopes,  which  looked  down  on  its 
busy  waters.  It  is  spoken  of  emphatically,  with  reference  to 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  293 

Jesus,  as  "His  own  city"  the  place  where  He  "dwelt."  For 
the  three  most  eventful  years  of  His  life  He  made  it  His 
Home.  Either  within  or  outside  its  gates,  miracle  followed 
miracle  in  rapid  succession.  Bodily  disease — sickness — 
blindness — palsy — death  itself — fled  affrighted  at  the  presence 
of  the  Lord  of  life ;  while  the  very  waves  which  washed  its 
port  had  been  made  a  pathway  for  a  new  display  of  Power, 
and  murmured  their  tribute  to  His  Divinity. 

Nor  was  it  the  works  of  Jesus  alone  which  this  favoured 
city  had  witnessed.  Hundreds  on  hundreds  would  echo  the 
later  verdict  of  the  soldiers  and  officers,  "  Never  man  SPAKE 
like  this  man."  The  noblest  of  all  His  recorded  discourses  was 
uttered  with  CAPERNAUM  in  view.  The  rocks,  and  ravines, 
and  mountain  summits  around,  had  listened  to  Beatitudes  of 
love  and  mercy  for  which  the  world  had  strained  its  listening 
ear  for  4000  years.  That  noble  series  of  Parables,  ex- 
planatory of  the  nature  of  His  kingdom,  was  spoken  as  He 
was  moored  in  a  fishing-boat  by  its  beach.  If  we  cannot 
even  now,  read  these  truthful  lessons  and  words  of  wisdom 
without  profound  emotion,  what  must  it  have  been  to  have 
listened  to  them,  in  the  living  tones  of  that  living  voice, 
and  to  have  gazed  on  the  countenance  of  the  Divine  Speaker, 
"  fairer  than  the  children  of  men  ?" 

And  even  mightier  still  than  word  or  deed,  sermon  or 
miracle,  was,  (as  we  have  just  noted.)  the  holy  LIFE  of  this 
adorable  Philanthropist.  What  a  matchless  combination  of 
power  and  gentleness — of  majesty  and  humility  !  How  un- 
like all  human  greatness ; — how  unlike  all  human  selfishness ! 
— a  zeal  that  never  flagged — a  love  that  never  faltered — a 
pity  and  compassion  which  sheltered  the  mean,  the  worthless, 


294  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

the  abandoned,  and  those  "who  had  no  helper."  When  His 
public  work  was  done  in  the  city,  He  was  seen  betaking 
Himself,  amid  falling  twilight  shadows,  to  some  neighbouring 
"mountain  apart  to  pray;"  or  if  bodily  fatigue  demanded 
repose,  no  sooner  was  the  cry  for  succour  heard,  than  He 
was  seen  hastening  back  from  His  solitude  and  mountain 
pillow  to  afford  the  needed  help. 

0  favoured  CAPERNAUM  !  honoured  for  three  long  years  as 
the  abode  of  "  God  manifest  in  the  flesh."  How  surpassing 
thy  privileges!  What  were  the  boasted  glories  of  earth's 
proudest  capitals,  at  that  moment,  in  comparison  with  this 
town  by  the  lone  lake  of  Northern  Palestine?  What  was 
Home,  with  her  imperial  eagles,  looking  down  from  her  seven 
hills,  exulting  in  the  sovereignty  of  the  world  ?  What  was 
Athens,  or  Alexandria,  with  their  schools  and  systems — their 
sages  and  philosophers — looking  down  from  their  haughty 
pinnacles  of  intellectual  triumph  on  the  subject  world  of 
Mind  ?  What  were  these  in  comparison  with  the  honour 
enjoyed  by  that  city,  within  whose  honoured  walls  dwelt  the 
Prince  of  the  Kings  of  the  earth — "  Christ,  the  Power  of  God, 
and  the  Wisdom  of  God?"  In  its  streets,  or  on  its  hill 
slopes,  or  amid  the  chimes  of  its  waves,  Words  of  mighty 
import  were  first  heard,  which  were  destined  yet  to  be  borne 
where  the  Eagles  of  Rome  had  never  penetrated.  There  a 
mighty  balsam  was  distilled  for  the  wounds  of  bleeding 
humanity,  which  the  doctrines  of  Aristotle  and  Plato  had 
failed,  and  ever  should  fail,  to  stanch.  No  wonder,  then, 
tiiat  over  this  His  adopted  home,  His  heart  should  yearn 
with  deepest  emotion.  His  eye  wanders  first  to  the  further 
fcowns,  lining  these  same  shores,  and  which  were  not  un- 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  295 

familiar  with  His  voice  and  presence.  As  He  gazes  on  them 
with  tearful  eye,  thus  he  weaves  His  plaintive  lament :  "  Woe 
unto  thee,  CHOEAZIN  !  woe  unto  thee,  BETHSAIDA  !  for  if  the 
mighty  works,  which  were  done  in  you,  had  been  done  in  Tyre 
and  Sidon,  they  would  have  repented  long  ago  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes."  But  He  has  a  deeper  and  sterner  plaint  reserved 
for  another  city — a  more  solemn  and  emphatic  apostrophe : 
"AND  THOU,  Capernaum"  (I  turn  now  to  thee,  the  spot  most 
favoured  of  all,  during  my  earthly  pilgrimage),  "and  THOU, 
CAPEENAUM,  which  art  exalted  unto  heaven!" 

Is  it  a  far-fetched  comparison,  if  we  see,  in  the  privileges 
enjoyed  by  this  city  of  GENNESAEET,  a  reflection  of  our  own  ? 
What  the  region  around  it  proverbially  once  was  among  the 
Hebrews  ("  a  region  and  shadow  of  death  "),  Britain  was  to 
the  old  world  ; — a  land  of  savage  barbarism  and  debasing 
superstition.  But  to  us,  as  to  them,  who  once  "sat  in  dark- 
ness," light  has  "  sprung  up."  Cast  your  eye  over  the  map  of 
the  habitable  earth,  and  what  the  spot,  what  the  nation  in 
its  two  hemispheres  so  favoured  as  ours  ?  I  speak  not  of  our 
worldly  prosperity — our  national  glory.  I  speak  not  of  our 
enterprise — our  science — our  arts — our  commerce — our  in- 
stitutions. Regarding  all  these  in  their  place,  we  have  reason 
for  honest  pride.  But  I  speak  of  our  spiritual  privileges, 
which  may  well  be  prized  as  a  Briton's  noblest  birthright — 
the  security  and  conservator  of  all  the  rest.  Look  to  other 
countries,  on  which  the  Sun  of  heaven  smiles  more  brightly 
and  benignantly  than  on  our  own,  yet  cursed  and  demoral- 
ised with  horrid  rites  of  impurity  and  blood — millions 
bowing  to  insensate  blocks — yearning  souls,  feeling  the  void 
•nd  worthlessness  of  their  own  effete  systems,  longing  for 


2.96  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

some  nobler  panacea  than  superstition  can  give  ; — ten  thou- 
sand Ethiopians  stretching  out  their  unsuccoured  hands  unto 
some  better  God  than  their  idols  of  silver  and  gold.  Look 
at  empires  nearer  home.  The  saddest  of  all  sad  features  in 
many  of  the  nations  of  Europe  is,  that  God's  own  truth  is 
not  free ; — that  a  poor  perishing  sinner  is  not  permitted  to 
read  with  his  own  eyes  that  precious  Word  which  was 
intended  to  be  patent  as  the  air  of  heaven  :  Oh,  is  it  no 
blessing  to  turn  from  this  sickening  tale  of  a  benighted  world 
and  a  benighted  Christendom,  and  see  our  own  land,  with 
every  fetter  struck  from  the  limb  of  thought  and  action, 
shining  like  another  Pharos — a  spiritual  light-house — in  the 
midst  of  the  darkening  waves  ?  Is  it  no  blessing  that 
we  can  tell  of  peaceful  Sabbaths,  and  holy  ordinances, 
and  unclasped  and  unforbidden  Bibles  ? — that  free  as  the 
streams  that  leap  from  our  mountain  ravines  are  these 
precious  waters  of  salvation?  —  that  while  myriads  of 
heathens  are  passing  into  a  dark  eternity,  or  pining  un- 
solaced  in  the  bitterness  of  broken  hearts ;  we  can  sit  by  the 
bedside  of  the  sick,  the  forlorn,  the  bereft,  the  aged,  the 
dying,  and  from  the  leaves  of  this  Holy  Book  light  up  the 
faded  countenance  with  the  smile  of  a  foretasted  Heaven  ? 

May  not  He  who  uttered  these  words  of  profound  solem- 
nity in  the  hearing  of  Capernaum,  well  look  down  on  this  our 
favoured  country,  and  with  solemn  and  significant  emphasis 
echo  the  apostrophe :  "  And  THOU  which  art  exalted  unto 
heaven  !  " 

II.  Consider  CAPERNAUM'S  NEGLECT.  He  "upbraided" 
this  city,  along  with  the  others,  "  because  it  repented  not." 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  297 

Now  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  there  is  no  special  or  atro- 
cious sin  laid  to  the  charge  of  this  Lake-city.  During  all  the 
period  of  our  Saviour's  residence  there,  we  read  of  no  personal 
insult  its  inhabitants  offered  Him.  Nazareth,  the  town  of  His 
childhood  and  youth,  has  covered,  in  this  respect,  its  otherwise 
hallowed  name  and  memories  with  everlasting  reproach.  The 
furious  assault  its  citizens  made  on  the  guiltless  and  guileless 
Saviour  is  stated  as  the  reason  for  His  leaving  it  and  coming 
to  dwell  in  Capernaum.*  But  in  His  new  home  we  have  the 
record  of  no  such  ignominious  persecution, — no  such  outburst 
of  personal  animosity.  On  the  contrary,  He  seems  there  to 
have  been  honoured  and  respected.  His  influence  was  great ; 
and  the  most  blinded  and  obdurate  could  not  shut  their  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  a  Great  Prophet  had  arisen  in  the  midst  oi^ 
them.  Representatives  from  all  its  diverse  ranks  and  offices 
did  him  homage — Publicans  from  their  Custom-house — • 
Fishermen  from  their  nets — Prefects  of  the  Jewish  synagogue 
— Officers  in  Caesar's  ranks  and  drawing  Caesar's  pay ; — while 
"  the  common  people  heard  him  gladly/' 

But  what  of  all  this  ?  While  there  were  some  (we  may 
hope  many)  happy  exceptions,  with  the  vast  multitude  there 
was  continued  indifference,  cold  and  cheerless  neglect ;  with 
many  more,  daring  irreligion,  and  the  indulgence  of  those 
unblushing  vices  which,  imported  from  the  Roman  capital, 
had  been  propagated  by  an  abandoned  Court.  They  heard 
His  words,  but  they  practised  them  not.  They  owned  him 
as  a  Heaven-sent  Teacher,  but  they  refused  to  regulate  their 
lives  by  His  lofty  instructions. 

In  the  neighbouring  city  of  Tiberias,  that  imperial  Court  of 

*  Luke  iv.  28-31. 


298  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Herod  was  located.  This  unhappy  sovereign  was  himself  the 
type  of  hundreds  whom  the  Redeemer  had  doubtless  now  in  his 
eye.  Herod  vaunted  no  infidelity.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  been 
the  personal  friend  of  John  the  Baptist.  He  admired  the  great 
preacher's  unworldly  spirit — his  deep  and  singular  earnest- 
ness— the  novelty  and  impressiveness  of  his  themes  !  He 
invited  him  to  his  palace.  He  listened  to  his  faithful,  soul- 
stirring  words — and  yet  all  the  while  that  palace  was  the  scene 
of  shameless  profligacy.  Herod — this  sermon-lover,  this  Re- 
ligionist, who  could  hear  the  holiest  of  mere  men  preach  the 
doctrine  of  Repentance — was  revelling  in  guilty  defiance  of 
the  laws  of  God  and  man.  Patiently  he  heard  John  so  long 
as  he  kept  on  the  great  general  theme, — so  long  as  he  allowed 
Ifyiin  to  remain  undisturbed  in  his  own  wickedness.  But  when 
he  became  a  Nathan  to  him — when  the  faithful,  fearless 
Forerunner  hurled  the  bolt  of  rebuke  at  the  soul  of  his  im- 
perial master,  and  dragged  to  light  his  secret  lusts,  he  could 
tolerate  him  no  longer.  Herodias  is  retained,  and  John  is 
sent  to  exile. 

So  it  was  with  many  in  CAPERNAUM.  They  could  follow 
Jesus  to  the  heights  of  Hattin,  and  listen  to  His  beatitudes. 
They  could  stand  for  hours  on  the  white  sands  of  the  lake  as 
He  spake  to  them  from  Simon's  vessel  all  the  words  of  the 
kingdom  ;  but  when  He  urged  the  necessity  of  a  daily  self- 
denial — a  daily  bearing  of  the  cross — they  were  immediately 
offended.  "  This  is  a  hard  saying,"  they  said,  "  who  can 
bear  it  ?"  "  From  that  hour  they  walked  no  more  with  him" 
This  was  their  condemnation  that  light  (the  great  Light  of 
Life)  came  to  their  city,  but  they  loved  darkness  rather  than 
light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil. 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  299 

Has  CAPERNAUM  in  this  respect  no  parallel  and  counter- 
part in  modern  times?  Alas!  alas!  Is  it  not  to  be  feared 
that  now,  as  then,  men  are  content  with  having  "  a  name  to 
live/'  who  are  spiritually  dead.  Thousands  there  are  who 
come  to  our  churches,  who  hear  the  preacher,  who  assent  to 
the  message,  but  go  back  from  listening  to  the  tremendous 
themes,  Death, — Judgment, — Eternity,  to  plunge  deep  as 
ever  into  engrossing"  worldliness  and  sin.  The  preacher  may 
be  heard, — his  words  may  fall  like  lulling  music  on  the  ear, 
but  the  gates  of  the  soul  are  firmly  locked  and  barred  against 
admission  ; — the  Baptist  may  thunder  his  rebukes,  but  some 
Herodias,  some  heart-sin  and  life-sin,  will,  in  spite  of  them, 
be  retained  and  caressed. 

Are  there  none  now  reading  these  words,  whom  the 
Saviour  would  begin  (as  He  did  with  Capernaum)  to  "  up- 
braid." because  they  have  repented  not  ?  When  His  scrutinis- 
ing eye  looks  down,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  upon  listening 
audiences  throughout  our  land,  all  apparently  solemn,  sin- 
cere, outwardly  devout,  does  He  not  discern,  lurking  under- 
neath this  fair  external  guise,  the  signs  and  symptoms  of 
loathsomeness  and  decay;  like  the  pure  virgin  snow  covering 
the  charred  and  blackened  ruin,  or  the  emerald  sod  muffling 
the  volcano.  Ah  !  sermons  will  not  save  us — church-going 
will  not  save  us — championship  in  creed  and  party  will  not 
save  us.  Repent !  Repent !  is  the  sharp,  shrill  call  of  the 
Gospel- trumpet.  There  must  be  a  change  of  heart — a  change 
of  life — a  crucifixion  of  sin — and  with  fall  purpose  of  heart, 
a  cleaving  unto  the  Lord  who  died  for  us. 

Like  CAPERNAUM  in  our  privileges,  let  us  see  to  it  that 
we  be  not  like  Capernaum  in  our  guilt.  Better  that  we  had 


300  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

been  born  among  a  Pagan-horde  ; — better  that  we  had  been 
kneeling  before  shapeless  idols,  votaries  of  dumb  clay,  or 
worshippers  of  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  fire  or  the  mountain, 
than  knowing  a  Saviour,  and  yet  rejecting  Him — the  free- 
born  citizens  of  a  Christian  land,  and  yet  the  enslaved  pos- 
sessors of  Heathen  hearts  ! 

III.  We  are  called  to  ponder  CAPERNAUM'S  DOOM. 
"  And  thou,  Capernaum,  SHALT  BE  BROUGHT  DOWN  TO 
HELL." 

That  this  refers  to  no  mere  temporal  judgment,  is  plain 
from  what  is  immediately  added — "  It  shall  be  more  toler- 
able," says  our  Lord,  "for  the  land  of  Sodom  in  the  day  of 
judgment  than  for  thee."  Sodom  was  already  destroyed. 
It  was  the  future  judgment  of  both,  therefore,  at  the  great 
day,  to  which  the  reference  is  made. 

No  doubt  this  future  and  final  retribution  has  had  its 
significant  foreshadowing  in  a  temporal  overthrow ;  for 
nothing  in  all  Palestine  (no,  not  the  dilapidated  walls  of 
Jerusalem  itself)  is  more  striking,  than  the  contrast  between 
GENNESARET  as  it  luas,  so  busy  a  scene  of  traffic  and  life, 
with  what  it  is  now,  a  spectacle  of  loneliness  and  desolation. 
The  very  site  of  the  ruins  of  Capernaum,  and  its  sister  towns, 
is  matter  of  dispute.  Jordan,  as  he  rolls  past,  hurrying  his 
waters  to  the  Asphaltite  Lake,  carries  the  tidings  to  its  sub- 
merged cities,  that  that  once  "  Sea  of  Life,"  has  become  a 
';  Sea  of  Death,"  like  itself. 

But  as  we  have  said,  we  must  seek  for  the  full  meaning  of 
our  Lord's  words,  not  in  the  grey  mouldering  heaps  which 
strew  the  shores  of  that  now  silent  lake,  but  in  a  more  terri- 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  SOi 

ble  scene,  when  from  beneath  these  crumbling  stones,  buried 
thousands  shall  start  at  the  last  summons  ! 

It  is  a  solemn  and  awful  picture  here  brought  before 
us.  The  Angels  of  Judgment  are  commissioned  to  speed 
them  with  their  trumpets,  and  to  gather  in  before  the 
tribunal,  not  solitary  individuals,  but  congregated  masses ; 
— City  is  brought  to  confront  City — Capital  to  confront 
Capital  \ 

CAPERNAUM  is  seen  to  rise  from  its  shroud  of  ruins  !  It 
is  the  old  earthly  Home  of  Jesus  that  is  now  sisted  at  the 
bar.  Let  the  Witnesses  be  summoned  !  Three  solemn  Years, 
like  three  venerable  forms,  come  forth  from  the  hoary  past. 
They  depone  how  its  streets  had  been  trodden  by  the  footsteps, 
its  shores  had  echoed  to  the  voice,  its  arraigned  thousands  had 
gazed  on  the  mighty  works  of  Him,  who,  once  the  Saviour,  is 
now  the  Judge ! 

Nor  are  there  wanting  individual  witnesses  to  substantiate 
this  testimony.  Hear  their  evidence  :  One  has  to  aver — 
'  I  was  stretched  on  a  couch  of  sickness  "  ready  to  die."  He 
came,  and  by  a  word  healed  me.' 

Another — '  The  foulest  of  diseases  had,  from  infancy,  tor- 
tured my  frame,  banished  me  from  my  fellows.  He  gave 
the  mandate.  Returning  health  thrilled  through  my  veins, 
and  those  that  had  before  fled  affrighted  from  my  presence, 
beheld  in  me  also  a  new  trophy  of  His  divinity/ 

Another  has  to  tell — '  My  son  was  trembling  on  the  verge 
of  the  grave — a  look  and  a  word  restored  him.'  Another — 
'My  only  daughter  was  hushed  in  that  sleep  from  which 
human  power  can  effect  no  awaking.  The  King  of  Terrors 
had  torn  her  from  our  side.  But  the  Lord  of  Life  entered 


302  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

our  dwelling,  rolled  back  the  gates  of  death,  and  gave  us 
back  our  loved  and  lost  I ' 

Material  Nature  can  even  be  summoned  to  add  weighty 
testimony.  The  mountains  whose  verdant  slopes  so  often 
listened  to  His  voice — the  midnight  solitudes  which  heard 
His  prayers  for  the  impenitent — the  grassy  meads  where  He 
fed  the  hungry  and  compassionated  the  fainting  multitude — 
the  white  sands  that  bore  His  footmarks — the  very  waves 
that  rocked  themselves  asleep  at  His  omnipotent  "peace,  be 
still"  There  is  a  tongue  in  every  one  of  them  to  attest  the 
privileges  of  the  ungrateful  city. 

And  now  appears  a  stranger  and  more  impressive  Wit- 
ness. It  is  a  witness  called  from  the  depths  of  a  tremendous 
sepulchre.  Calcined  rocks  with  their  riven  fronts  have  borne 
for  ages  the  significant  epitaph  of  an  unexampled  overthrow  ; 
temple  and  tower  emerge  from  these  abysmal  deeps — the 
hum  of  a  vast  City  breaks  on  the  ear  I  It  is  SODOM,  the 
doomed  capital  of  the  Patriarchal  age. — The  "  City  of  the 
PLAIN"  confronts  the  City  of  the  northern  SEA  !  "  Sinners 
before  the  Lord  exceedingly,"  what  have  ye  to  plead  ? 

'  Had  we  enjoyed/  is  the  reply,  '  the  privileges  of  CAPER- 
NAUM, we  should  have  repented  long  ago,  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes.  Had  that  voice  of  majesty  and  love  sounded  in  our 
streets  as  it  did  in  theirs,  we  "  should  have  remained  until 
this  day;'"' — the  brimstone  cloud  would  have  dissolved — 
the  bolts  of  living  fire  would  have  been  undischarged 
— smiling  plains  and  vineyards  would  have  been  where 
for  ages  sullen  death-waters  have  rolled — we  might  have 
lifted  up  our  faces  unabashed  in  this  hour  of  judgment. 
Lord  !  Thou  Great  Judge !  to  us  much  was  not  given — 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  303 

forbid  that/rora  us  much  should  be  required!*  What  saith 
the  Righteous  Lord  ?  '  SODOM  !  Justice  demands  retribution 
for  thy  crimes — thy  guilt  was  not  without  its  aggravations — 
thou  wast  not  left  unsuccoured  and  unwarned ;  the  voice 
and  the  prayers  of  the  Father  of  the  Faithful  ascended  for 
thee — a  Righteous  man  testified  in  thy  midst  from  day  to  day 
against  thine  unlawful  deeds — yet  thou  wouldst  not  hearken ; 
the  doom  of  Earth  must  be  confirmed  now  !  Thou  City  that 
wert  "  filthy/'  be  thou  "  filthy  still  I" ' 

But  Thou,  CAPERNAUM  !  the  same  Justice  demands  that  far 
different  be  THY  doom  !  The  guilt  of  Sodom  was  guilt  con- 
tacted in  the  thick  darkness  of  the  old  world — a  few  broken 
beams  only  struggled  through  the  mists  of  early  day  ! 

But  THOU,  CAPERNAUM  !  what  city  of  earth  so  favoured  ? 
Thy  hills  were  the  first  gilded  by  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness — thy  waters  were  the  first  to  sparkle  under 
His  radiance.  It  was  no  earthly  prophet  or  messenger  that 
came  and  tarried  within  thy  walls,  summoning  thee  to  repent- 
ance !  Oh,  mightier  than  all  preceding  Witnesses,  thy  JUDGE 
Himself  must  now  take  the  place  of  deposition,  and  testify 
against  thee  !  I  warned  thee  ! — I  counselled  thee  ! — I  lifted 
up  my  voice  in  thy  streets  ! — never  did  I  break  the  bruised 
reed,  or  quench  the  smoking  flax  ! — I  sought  to  bring  forth 
judgment  unto  victory.  But  my  pleadings  of  love  fell 
powerless  on  impenitent  souls.  Thou  knewest  thy  Lord's 
will,  and  didst  it  not  !  Thou  wert  exalted  unto  heaven  with 
privileges — be  thou  thrust  down  to  hell  for  the  misimprove- 
rnent  of  them  !  '  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  It  is  more  toler- 
able for  the  land  of  Sodom  in  this  the  day  of  judgment 
than  for  thee!' 


304  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

It  is  the  same  principle  which  will  regulate  the  pro- 
cedure in  the  Final  Day  with  reference  to  us.  The  same  great 
law  of  unerring  equity  will  be  rigidly  adhered  to — "To 
whomsoever  much  is  given,  from  them  shall  the  more  be 
required.'3 

Is  there  one  amongst  us  who  has  trampled  on  unnumbered 
privileges — the  lessons  of  early  piety — followed  by  a  manhood 
of  daring  ungodliness,  or  with  whom  solemn  providential 
warnings  have  been  guiltily  neglected  and  scorned  ?  What 
shall  the  Great  Judge  say  on  that  Day  of  just  retribution  ? 
'  Guilty  one  !  thy  doom  admits  of  no  mitigation  !  There  is 
everything  to  aggravate  and  nought  to  extenuate.  I  made 
for  years  thy  soul  a  very  CAPERNAUM.  I  lingered  in  it,  with 
my  footsteps  of  mercy  plying  thee  with  every  motive  and 
every  argument  to  induce  thee  to  hear  my  voice,  and  turn  at 
my  reproof.  I  spake  to  thee  in  prosperity — by  the  full  cup ; 
but  thou  didst  drink  it  unacknowledged.  I  spake  to  thee  in 
adversity — by  desolate  hearts  and  swept  chambers  ;  but  thou 
receivedst  the  chastisement  in  sullen  fretfulness,  and  didst 
rush  only  deeper  into  worldliness  and  sin.  See  that  Outcast  by 
thy  side !  If  the  mighty  works  had  been  done  in  his  case 
that  were  done  in  thine,  it  might  have  been  far  otherwise  with 
him.  If  he  had  had  thy  mother's  prayers — thy  paternal 
counsels — thy  pastor's  warnings — thy  solemn  afflictions, — 
he  might  have  been  clothed  ere  now  in  the  sackcloth  of 
repentance.  But  no  penitential  tear  stole  down  thy  cheek — 
my  grace  has  been  resisted — my  spirit  grieved — my  love 
mocked  and  scorned.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  It  shall  be 
more  tolerable  for  miserable  thousands  throughout  that 
eternity  than  for  thee  ! ' 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  305 

We  are  obviously  taught  by  all  this,  that  there  are  to  be 
gradations  in  future  punishment — aggravations  of  guilt  and 
degrees  of  suffering.  Of  what  these  are  to  consist,  we 
cannot  tell ;  doubtless  among  them  will  be  the  gnawing 
rebukes  and  accusations  of  memory  and  conscience,  over 
abused  privileges — the  bewailing  of  opportunities  and  mer- 
cies madly  thrown  away  by  us. 

In  that  impressive  parable  of  our  blessed  Lord,  describing 
the  condition  and  experience  of  the  lost,  one  of  the  saddest 
elements  in  the  woe  of  Dives  is  unfolded  in  the*  reply  of 
Father  Abraham — a  reply  whose  echoes  will  circulate  gloom- 
ily through  the  domains  of  despair — "Son,  REMEMBER  ! " 
CAPERNAUM,  remember  !  thou  wert  the  honoured  home  of 
a  Saviour — thou  didst  guiltily  reject.  Sinner,  remember! 
how  that  Saviour  stood  and  knocked  day  by  day,  week  by 
week,  at  the  gates  of  thy  soul — remember!  how  thou  didst 
grieve  and  scorn  Him — remember  !  that  parental  prayer, 
that  funeral,  that  sermon,  that  life-time  of  privilege  !  Even 
on  earth,  how  often  do  we  see  how  memory  and  conscience 
together  can  light  up  a  hell  in  embryo  !  Not  far  indeed 
from  CAPERNAUM,  there  was  an  illustration  of  this  in  the 
case  of  the  imperial  tyrant,  to  whom  we  have  previously 
alluded.  HEROD  had  guiltily  connived  at  the  murder  of  the 
most  innocent  of  men,  and  most  devoted  of  ministers.  The 
base  deed  is  consummated.  But  no  sooner  is  it  so,  than  con- 
science is  roused  to  its  work  of  retributive  vengeance ;  the 
image  of  the  slaughtered  prophet  haunts  his  thoughts  by  day, 
and  scares  him  in  dreams  by  night — "  And  king  Herod  heard 
of  Jesus''  (we  read) ;  "  and  he  said,  That  John  the  Baptist  wa^ 
risen  from-  the  dead,  and  therefore  mighty  works  do  shew 

u 


306  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

forth  themselves  in  him :  others  said,  That  it  is  Elias  :  and 
others  said,  That  it  is  a  prophet,  or  as  one  of  the  prophets. 
But  ivhen  Herod  heard  thereof,  he  said,  It  is  John,  whom  I 
beheaded;  he  is  risen  from  the  dead."  It  is  John  reanimated 
to  inflict  merited  retribution  on  his  old  destroyer  !  the  stern 
preacher  has  come  from  Sheol !  he  has  been  sent  from  the 
spirit-world  as  a  minister  of  vengeance  !  Conscience  sees  the 
grim  spectral  shadow  flit  ominously  before  him,  like  the 
fabled  ghosts  of  the  murdered  ; — all  his  power  cannot  bribe 
it — all  his  courage  cannot  charm  it  away  ! 

Yes ;  this  is  but  a  foreshadowing  of  what  will  terribly 
aggravate  the  sufferings  and  upbraidings  of  the  lost ;  some 
foul  deed  that  murdered  (worse  than  the  body)  the  soul  of  a 
fellow-creature,  will  fasten  upon  the  transgressor  like  the 
sting  of  the  scorpion,  and  give  him  no  rest  day  nor  night. 
The  terrible  imagery  will  track  his  footsteps,  and  traverse, 
with  terrifying  form,  his  path. 

I  was  a  traitor  to  my  Child,  will  be  the  harrowing  thought 
of  one  ;  he  might  have  been  in  glory  but  for  me  !  I  laid  snares 
for  the  innocent,  will  be  the  self-reproach  of  another.  I  sowed 
broad-cast  the  seeds  of  vice  in  virtuous  hearts  ;  they  are  now 
piteously  upbraiding  me  as  the  author  of  all  their  misery  !  I 
was  the  Pastor  of  a  Flock,  is  the  torturing  anguish  of  a  third  ; 
but  I  deceived  them  with  a  name  to  live,  I  neglected  to  tell 
them  of  their  danger,  and  urge  them  to  accept  the  great 
remedy,  and  the  voice  of  my  people's  blood  is  crying  out 
against  me  !  We  had  that  Saviour  in  our  offer,  will  be 
the  wild  cry  of  thousands  more,  but  we  rejected  His  love  and 
spurned  His  grace. 

Ah,  it  is  this  last  which  was  the  crime  of  the  CAPERNAUM 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  307 

sinner — (misimproved  privileges},  and  we  fear  no  guilt  will 
be  more  general,  no  reflections  more  harrowing,  than  those 
arising  from  its  consciousness.  Yes  ;  be  assured  nothing 
will  be  half  so  terrible  as  to  be  confronted  with  the  charge 
of  abused  responsibilities.  If  he  be  without  sail  and  rudder, 
the  castaway  on  the  raft  could  not  be  blamed  for  inability  to 
buffet  the  storm,  reach  the  haven,  and  save  his  owner's  cargo ; 
but  a  heavy  responsibility  would  rest  on  the  pilot,  who,  with 
fully  equipped  vessel,  a  bright  sky  above,  a  favouring  breeze, 
and  a  safe  navigation,  permitted  her  to  run  aground,  or  be 
dashed  on  the  rocks. 

Not  only,  in  the  case  of  abused  privileges,  is  the  respon- 
sibility greater,  but  the  ruin  is  swifter  and  surer !  The  very 
possession  of  privileges,  if  these  aro  unimproved,  will  only 
lead  to  a  greater  hardness  and  impenitency  of  heart.  The 
sun,  and  dews,  and  rains  of  heaven,  which  warm  and  moisten, 
and  fructify  the  living  blade,  or  plant,  or  tree,  accelerate  the 
decay  and  rottenness  of  the  dead  one.  As  by  familiarity 
with  sin,  its  native  odiousness  is  worn  away — the  first  shudder 
of  tender  conscience  is  followed  by  a  duller  sense  of  its  turpi- 
tude, then  the  swift  downward  descent  to  perdition.  So  by 
familiarity  with  the  gospel,  the  urgency  and  impressiveness 
of  its  messages  are  diminished ;  just  as  the  Alpine  shepherd 
can,  through  habit,  sleep  undisturbed  at  the  base  of  the  roar- 
ing cataract,  or  the  soldier  can  hear  without  wincing  the 
thunder  of  the  cannon. 

God  keep  us  from  the  sin  and  danger  of  being  preachers 
and  hearers,  and  not  doers — having  the  head  enlightened 
and  the  soul  unsaved — our  privileges  only  forging  the  heavier 
fetter,  and  feeding  and  fanning  the  hotter  flame  ! 


308  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Awake,  my  Brother,  ere  it  be  too  late,  from  your  sleep 
of   indifference.      God   calleth   on   all  men,  everywhere,  to 
repent.     Yours  may,  till  now,  have  been  the  guilt  of  CAPER- 
NAUM— yours  its  heavy  responsibilities  ;  but  the  Saviour  has 
not  yet  stood  at  the  gates  of  your  heart  to  utter  the  last 
malediction — announcing  that  you  are?,  through  impenitence, 
finally  given  over  to  judicial  blindness  !     While  Capernaum 
still  enjoyed  the  Lord's  presence,  for  the  vilest  sinner  within 
its  walls  there  was  mercy !     We  conjure  you,  by  the  great 
Day  of  Judgment— that  Day  in  which  Sodom  and  Capernaum 
and  ive  shall  together  meet — to  remain  no  longer  as  you  are. 
Go  not  down  to  the  grave,  with  your  work  undone  and  your 
souls  unsaved.     Jesus  is  still  lingering  on  your  thresholds. 
It    was  the  wondrous    record  of    three   years   of    miracu- 
lous works   and  cures   in   the  Galilean    city — "  Pie  healed 
them  ALL ; "    and  He  is  still  the  Physician  who  heals  ALL 
diseases !     Soon  it  will  be  too  late  to  rush  to  His  feet ; — He 
will  have  bidden  an  eternal  farewell  to  the  souls  that  have 
rejected  Him,  or  death  may  have  put  his  impressive  seal  on 
their  hopes  of  pardon.    A  few  more  faint  "  pulses  of  quivering 
light/'  and  your  earthly  sun  will  have  set  for  ever  !    The  past 
may  be  a  sad  one — you  cannot  recall  it — you  cannot  revoke 
or  cancel  it ; — it  has  winged  its  flight  before  you  to  meet  you 
at  the  Judgment.     But  the  future  is  yours,  and  God  helping 
you,  the  dark  and  cloudy  day  may  yet  have  its  sunset  of 
vermilion  and  gold.     Up,  and  with  the  earnestness  of  men 
resolve  to  flee  sin  and  cleave  to  the  Lord,  that  that  awful 
hour  may  never  arrive,  in  which  your  own  knell  shall  thus  be 
rung — "  If  tkou,  even  THOU,  hadst  known  in  this  thy  day,  the 


THE  DOOMED  CITY.  309 

things  that  belong  to  thy  peace,  but  now  they  are  for  ever  hid 
from,  thine  eyes." 

Can  I  close  these  solemn  thoughts  without  a  word  of 
incentive  and  encouragement  to  God's  own  people  ?  The 
text  tells  us  that  there  are  to  be  different  degrees  of  punish- 
ment in  a  state  of  woe ;  but  there  are  other  passages  in  abun- 
dance which  teach  us  the  cheering  corresponding  truth,  that 
there  are  to  be  different  degrees  of  bliss  in  a  future  heaven. 
One  star  is  to  differ  from  another  star  in  glory.  There  are 
to  be  rulers  over  five,  and  rulers  over  ten  cities — those  who 
are  to  be  in  the  outskirts  of  glory,  and  those  basking  in  the 
sunlight  of  the  Eternal  Throne !  Is  this  no  call  on  us  to  be  up 
and  doing  ? — not  to  be  content  with  the  circumference,  but 
to  seek  nearness  to  the  glorious  centre — not  only  to  have 
crowns  shining  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  but  to 
have  a  tiara  of  stars  in  that  crown?  It  is  the  degree  of 
holiness  now  that  will  decide  the  degree  of  happiness  then, 
— the  transactions  of  time  will  regulate  the  awards  of 
eternity. 

And  as  we  have  seen  that  memory  will  increase  and  aggra- 
vate the  wretchedness  of  the  lost,  so  will  the  same  purified 
ennobled  power  intensify  the  bliss  of  the  saved.  Ah  !  with 
what  joy  will  they  retraverse  life,  mark  every  successfully 
resisted  temptation — every  triumph  over  base  passion  and 
sordid  self — every  sacrifice  made  for  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  good  of  man — every  affliction  they  have  meekly  borne — 
every  cross  they  have  submissively  carried — every  kindly 
unostentatious  deed,  done  from  motives  of  love  and  gratitude 
to  the  Saviour.  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and 


310  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

trembling.  The  religions  life  is  action  ;  it  is  not  theory — it 
is  not  dreamy  thought — sickly  sentimentalism.  The  formula 
of  the  great  Judge's  sentence  on  the  last  day  to  the  Righteous 
is  (not  "well  thought,"  or  "well  purposed,"  but) — "well 
DONE ;"  to  the  Wicked — "  Inasmuch  as  ye  DID  it  not." 

Fellow-sinners,  washed  by  the  same  blood — fellow-pilgrims, 
travelling  to  the  same  eternity — fellow-prisoners,  who  are  so 
soon  to  stand  at  the  same  Great  Bar, — are  we  ready  to  meet 
the  summons  which  may  sooner  than  we  think  startle  us 
in  the  midst  of  our  neglected  privileges  ? — "  Go  !  GIVE  AN 
ACCOUNT  OF  THY  STEWARDSHIP  !  " 


XVIIL 


Then  rest,  poor  soul,  He  bids  thee  rest, 

Nor  tremble  at  the  dread  to-morrow ; 
Lean  on  thy  Saviour's  willing  breast, 

And  thou  shalt  know  nor  care  nor  sorrow. 
No  longer  trust  thy  tottering  limb, 

But  cast  thy  burdens  all  on  Him 
Who  set  His  face  to  tread  the  blood-stained  path, 

And  without  murmur  drained  His  Father's  cup  of  wrath. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  time  was  come  that  he  should  be  received  up, 
he  stedfastly  set  his  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem." — LUKE  ix.  51. 


HEROISM. 

THERE  must  always  be  a  feeling  of  sadness  in  bidding  fare- 
well to  a  place  where  we  have  long  sojourned,  and  with  which 
is  interweaved  many  hallowed  associations ;- — the  scenes  of 
sunny  childhood — the  hills  on  which  we  gazed — the  stream 
which  murmured  tranquilly  by  the  parental  home — the  kind 
looks,  and  kind  hearts,  and  kind  words  which  throw  a  halo 
more  sacred  still  around  the  dwelling  of  our  early  youth. 

JESUS,  being  Man,  participating  in  all  the  tenderest  sen- 
sibilities of  our  nature,  could  not  be  altogether  a  stranger  to 
similar  emotions.  He  is  now  about  to  bid  farewell  to  scenes 
and  localities  with  which  for  thirty-three  years  of  a  myste- 
rious life  He  had  been  familiar.  The  last  three  of  these, 
though  saddened,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  former  Chapter,  by 
unbelief  and  impenitence,  were  yet  linked  with  loving  and 
momentous  memories.  His  words  and  deeds  were  embalmed 
in  grateful  remembrance  in  many  a  town  and  fishing  hamlet 
of  GENNESARET.  The  dying,  the  dead,  the  sick,  the  blind, 
the  halt,  the  lame,  had  learned  to  revere  Him  as  a  Great 
Prophet,  a  generous  Philanthropist,  a  faithful  Friend.  The 
very  children  loved  to  follow  Him, — to  listen  to  His  simple 
teachings,  and  to  lisp  His  sacred  name.*  If  He  refused  the 
proffer  of  a  crown,  He  was  king  in  ten  thousand  hearts ; 
and  heavily  would  the  tidings  have  fallen  on  many,  had  they 

*  Matt.  xv.  38. 


314  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

known  the  truth,  that  this  Great  and  Gracious  Eedeemer 
was  about  to  depart  from  Galilee,  never  again,  save  for  the 
briefest  of  interviews,  to  return  ! 

If  it  be  sad,  even  with  bright  prospects  before  us,  to  bid 
adieu  to  a  home  such  as  I  have  described,  how  are  these 
feelings  of  sadness  augmented  when  that  departure  is  accom- 
panied with  gloomy  forebodings,  too  truthful  presentiments 
of  evil  and  sorrow  ? — the  knowledge  that  there  is  but  a  step 
between  the  hallowed  home-hearth  and  the  chilling  blasts  of 
a  wintry  unbefriending  world  ?  When  the  hand  of  death  has 
entered  a  household,  and  the  widow  and  her  orphans  are 
forced  adrift  amid  bleak  scenes  and  stin'el  comforts,  who 
(save  those  who  have  felt  it)  can  describe  the  fond  lingering 
look  turned  to  the  old  dwelling,  listening  for  the  last  time  to 
the  murmur  of  its  brook,  the  sunlight  glancing  amid  the 
quivering  leaves,  under  whose  shadow  childhood  has  oft  loved 
to  repose  !  The  youth  leaves  a  father's  roof  under  any  cir- 
cumstances with  a  drooping  spirit.  But  how  are  his  regrets 
embittered  when  he  knows  that  he  is  entering  on  a  rough 
and  rugged  path,  about  to  exchange  gentle  looks  and  kind 
smiles  for  frowns,  contumely,  cold  neglect,  supercilious  scorn  ! 

What — if  we  dare  compare  human  feelings  with  those  of 
JESUS — what  must  have  been  His  emotions  in  leaving  now 
the  home-scenes  of  Galilee  and  Gennesaret  under  the  tremen- 
dous consciousness  of  the  trial-hour  awaiting  Him  ?  What 
must  have  been  His  thoughts,  as  for  the  last  time  He  stands 
nigh  some  spot  where  the  Jordan,  issuing  from  the  lake,  re- 
sumes its  impetuous  course,  and,  taking  His  farewell  glimpse 
of  the  scenes  of  His  ministry  and  miracles,  He  hastens  on- 
wards to  the  climax  of  His  life  of  woe  ?  But  He  trembles 


HEROISM.  315 

not — flinches  not — falters  not !  His  resolution  is  taken  ! 
With  a  moral  HEROISM  unparalleled  in  the  world's  history, 
He  seems,  in  words  He  afterwards  uttered,  to  be  longing  for 
the  hour  of  conflict  and  victory — "  /  have  a  baptism  to  be 
baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  straitened  until  it  be  accom- 
plished !" 

In  this  Festival  Journey,  how  diverse  the  thoughts  and 
experiences  of  the  Pilgrim  crowds — the  Disciples — their 
Lord  ! 

The  multitudes  could  participate  in  no  such  saddening, 
farewells.  These  feast-days  periodically  recurring,  formed  to 
them  the  most  joyous  events  of  the  year ; — holiday  times,  all 
whose  associations  were  mirth  and  gladness ;  happy  occa- 
sions for  friends  meeting  friends  at  the  distant  capital,  and 
uniting  together  in  the  worship  of  their  fathers'  God  and 
their  own  !  On  ordinary  occasions  these  feelings  would  have 
been  shared  too  by  the  disciples.  It  was  different,  however, 
now.  They  had  recently  been  receiving  mysterious  and  sig- 
nificant intimation  from  their  Beloved  Master  of  a  terrible 
crisis  impending ; — how  He  must  needs  "  go  up  to  Jerusalem" 
to  suffer,  to  be  Rejected,  and  crucified.  Their  feelings  are 
thus  powerfully  and  graphically  described  by  St  Mark : — 
"  And  they  were  in  the  way  going  up  to  Jerusalem,  and 
Jesus  went  before  them :  AND  THEY  WERE  AMAZED  ;  AND  AS 
THEY  FOLLOWED,  THEY  WERE  AFRAID.  And  he  took  again 
the  twelve,  and  began  to  tell  them  what  things  should  happen 
unto  him,  saying,  Behold,  we  go  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  the 
Son  of  Man  shall  be  delivered  unto  the  Chief  Priests  and 
unto  the  Scribes,  and  they  shall  condemn  him  to  death,  and 
shall  deliver  him  to  the  Gentiles :  and  they  shall  mock  himt 


3i()  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

and  shall  scourge  him,  and  shall  spit  upon  him,  and  shall 
kill  him;  and  the  third  day  he  shall  rise  again" 

How  strange,  that  notwithstanding  such  an  announcement 
as  this,  the  bearing  of  Him  who  uttered  it  should  be  so  calm, 
so  magnanimous  ! — that  instead  of  starting  at  these  awful 
shadows  that  were  now  projected  on  His  path,  He  should 
commence  from  Galilee  that  "  Dolorous  way/'  terminated  by 
the  crown  of  thorns  and  the  bitter  tree,  with  tearless  eye  and 
unhesitating  step ;  and  that  the  Evangelist  has  to  give,  as 
the  closing  record  of  this  portion  of  His  GENNESAEET  life — 
"And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  time  was  come  that  he 
should  be  received  up,  he  stedfastly  set  his  face  to  go  to 
Jerusalem." 

Let  us  endeavour  to  ponder  one  or  two  reasons  which 
among  others  must  have  served  to  strengthen  and  sustain 
the  Saviour  in  setting  out  on  this  momentous  journey  : — in 
other  words,  the  causes  of  a  resolution  and  magnanimity  so 
remarkable,  with  a  crisis  so  appalling  at  hand. 

I.  He  was  cheered  by  the  consciousness  that  in  now  going 
to  Jerusalem  He  was  fulfilling  the  will  of  His  Father. 

This  great  idea,  this  elevated  motive,  was  ever  paramount 
with  Him — the  impelling  power  in  every  thought,  word,  and 
deed — "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me." 
There  was  an  hour  appointed  by  the  Father  for  the  consum- 
mating of  His  work  on  earth.  That  hour,  no  bribe,  no  threat, 
could  tempt  Him  either  to  anticipate  or  evade.  A  short 
while  before,  some  worldly,  time-serving  "  kinsmen  "  urged 
Him  to  proceed  without  delay  to  Jerusalem,  seizing  the 
opportunity  of  unbounded  popularity  to  claim  the  Throne  of 


HEEOISM.  317 

David,  and  assert  His  claims  to  the  Messiahship — "Depart 
hence,  and  go  into  Judea,  that  thy  disciples  also  may  see  the 

works  that  thou  doest If  thou  do  these  things,  shew 

thyself  to  the  world."*  His  answer  was  meek  and  gentle, 
yet  tempered  with  righteous  severity,  "  My  time  is  not  yet 
come,  but  your  time  .is  alway  ready."  "  There  is  no  restric- 
tion laid  upon  your  time,  and  even  if  there  were,  you  would 
not  be  willing  to  attend  to  it,  if  worldly  prudence  or  advance- 
ment dictated  otherwise.  But  it  is  otherwise  with  ME.  A 
great  WILL  above  regulates  my  every  movement ;  I  cannot 
and  shall  not  by  one  hair's-breadth  deviate  from  the  path  that 
WILL  has  prescribed/' 

But  the  moment  had  at  length  arrived  which  the  Father 
had  appointed  for  the  Great  Sacrifice.  Daniel's  "  seventy 
weeks"  of  years  were  on  the  eve  of  "  accomplishment ;"  and,  in 
obedience  to  that  Higher  WILL,  He  prepares  to  depart.  The 
hour  strikes  which  had  been  waited  for  by  all  time,  "  and  he 
sets  his  face  stedfastly  to  go  to  Jerusalem  !" 

Here  is  the  secret  of  moral  strength  in  encountering  our 
seasons  of  trial  and  difficulty — the  conviction  that  our  times 
are  in  the  hands  of  God;  thus  leading  to  complete  and  entire 
subordination  of  our  wills  to  His.  How  it  would  disarm 
affliction  and  bereavement  of  their  bitterest  stings  if  we  were 
enabled  to  give  as  the  history  of  our  darkest  dispensations, 
"  This  is  my  heavenly  Father  s  will  /"  The  hour  has  come — 
the  hour  appointed  by  loving  Wisdom.  "  The  world's  time  is 
anytime;"  their  trials  are  called  "misfortune," — "untoward 
accident" — "wayward  calamity."  But  the  Christian,  like 
his  Lord,  is  able  tr  view  every  occurrence  as  emanating  from 

*  John  vii.  3,  4, 


318  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

a  Hand  of  infinite  love,  a  Mind  of  infinite  foreknowledge,  and 
a  Will  of  infinite  faithfulness.  Every  phase  in  his  history — 
every  step  in  his  pilgrimage — its  most  trifling  incidents  and 
circumstantials — are  Divinely  appointed.  Feeling  that  he 
is  under  this  kind  and  gracious  guardianship,  he  resolves 
his  own  will  into  the  will  of  The  Supreme  !  All  that  concerns 
him  and  his  are  parts  of  a  vast  harmonious  plan.  The 
future  (mazy,  dark,  mysterious,)  is  fully  known  to  One  who 
sees  the  end  from  the  beginning — educing  good  out  of 
seeming  evil — order  out  of  apparent  confusion.  Even  when 
a  cross  (a  shadow  of  his  Lord's)  looms  gloomily  on  his  path, 
he  breathes  with  unmurmuring  lips,  "Even  so,  Father!"  and 
sets  His  face  steadfastly  to  endure  His  baptism  of  suffering 
and  blood ! 

II.  Another  reflection  which  would,  doubtless,  sustain 
Jesus  in  this  farewell  hour,  would  be  the  thought  of  past 
fidelity  and  devotedness  in  His  great  work. 

Now  faithful,  hoiv  devoted,  the  great  Redeemer  was  during 
these  brief  but  eventful  years  of  residence  within  and  around 
Capernaum,  we  have  often  had  occasion  to  note ;  from  His 
first  utterance  in  its  Synagogue,  as  the  anointed  Preacher  of 
glad  tidings,  down  to  the  hour  here  spoken  of,  when  He  took 
His  last  view  of  Galilee,  and  proclaimed  to  its  cities,  and  to 
the  world,  those  healing  words  on  which  His  own  death  was 
now  to  impress  an  untold  significancy  and  value — "  The  Son 
of  Man  is  come  to  save  that  which  was  LOST  !  "  * 

We  found,  in  a  former  chapter,  how  His  weary  human  nature 
often  sank  under  physical  exhaustion,  gladly  snatching  a  few 

*  Matt,  xviii.  11. 


HEROISM.  319 

hours  of  sleep,  as  best  He  could,  on  the  planks  of  a  rough 
fishing- vessel,  or  on  the  brow  of  the  midnight  mountain.  His 
was  the  ceaseless  activity  of  holy  work ;  curing  physical 
maladies :  expounding  heavenly  truths ;  pointing  the  weak 
and  weary — the  burdened  and  backsliding — the  neglectful 
and  the  lost — to  that  wondrous  salvation  He  was  sent  from 
heaven  to  purchase  and  proclaim.  "Never  man  spake" — 
never  man  wrought  and  laboured,  wept  and  prayed,  like  this 
Man  !  Yes,  the  consciousness  that  He  had  been  enabled  to 
fulfil  His  God-like  work  with  such  unwearying  devotedness, 
could  not  fail  mightily  to  uphold  His  spirit  when  about  tc 
confront  more  terrible  experiences — "  THE  hour  and  power 
of  darkness." 

Let  us  ask,  How  is  it  with  us  ?  In  the  prospect  of  the  time 
when  we  too  are  to  be  "received  up;" — that  moment  which 
sooner  or  later  awaits  us  all — when  our  spirits  shall  wing 
their  flight  from  an  irreparable  past  into  a  changeless  future, 
— can  we  anticipate  or  meet  it  with  the  joyous  humble  hope, 
"  I  have  not  lived  in  vain  ; — my  work  is  done  ; — I  have  served 
my  God; — I  have  been  for  long  reposing  on  the  merits  of 
that  blessed  Redeemer ; — I  have  sought  to  spend  existence 
under  the  sovereignty  of  the  lofty  motive  to  please  Jesus  !  "  0 
Or,  alas !  is  it  with  us,  as  with  many ;  Christians  in  name,  but 
whose  lives  are  a  mournful  blank  •?  if  they  have  love  to  God, 
it  is  a  fruitless  love ;  if  they  have  faith  in  Christ,  it  is  a 
"  faith  without  works " — withered,  sapless,  unproductive, 
dead  ! 

Reader,  if  you  would  seek,  when  the  last  Messenger  comes, 
to  receive  his  summons  with  calm  composure  and  tranquil  joy, 
— live  now  to  God  !  Study,  as  your  model,  that  lovely  Life  we 


320  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

have  been  tracing  in  its  three  most  momentous  years — that 
"  Hose  of  Sharon,"  as  it  bloomed  and  blossomed  on  the 
shores  of  TIBEKIAS.  Let  its  tints  and  fragrance  follow  you 
to  your  homes,  your  closets,  your  places  of  business,  your 
scenes  of  enjoyment.  Let  all  your  daily  thoughts,  words, 
actions,  be  moulded  and  regulated  by  the  inquiry,  "How 
would  JESUS  have  acted  here  ?  "  As  activity,  in  His  Father's 
work,  was  the  great  law  of  His  being,  make  it  also  yours. 
" Lo,  I  come,  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  0  my  God,"  was  His 
utterance  when,  (pillowed  in  that  bosom  of  everlasting  love), 
the  Eedemption  plan  was  first  proposed  to  Him. — Sacredly 
did  He  fulfil  His  high  resolve,  from  the  moment  He  entered 
our  world  as  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem,  until,  with  the  voice  of 
a  Conqueror,  He  could  proclaim — "  I  have  glorified  thee  on 
the  earth,  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou  gavest  me 
to  do" 

Like  Him,  too,  "work  while  it  is  called  to-day."  His 
appointed  period  for  active  energy  on  earth  was  short — three 
brief  years  included  it  all.  Your  probation-time  may  not  be 
longer,  it  may  not  be  so  long.  Ah !  "  the  night  cometh 
wherein  no  man  can  work."  Think,  ere  it  be  too  late,  how 
.terrible  to  be  confronted  by  Death,  all  unmeet  and  unprepared 
to  die; — the  oil  unbought — the  lamps  nickering — hours 
wasted — opportunities  neglected — an  unprovided-for  eternity 
lying  at  your  door  ! 

If  to-night  the  angel -messenger  were  to  deliver  his 
behest — "  The  time  is  come  that  you  are  to  be  received 
up  ;"  could  you,  with  the  joyful  alacrity  of  your  Lord,  set 
your  face  steadfastly  to  meet  the  great  struggle-hour  of 
nature  ?  could  you  adopt  the  words  uttered  from  the  noblest 


HEROISM.  321 

of  death-beds — "  /  am  now  ready  to  be  offered,  and  the  time 
of  my  departure  is  at  hand;  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I 
have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith:  henceforth 
there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the 
Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  will  give  me  at  that  day." 

III.  Jesus  willingly  "  set  his  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem  "  and 
accomplish  His  decease,  when  He  thought  of  the  glory  that 
was  to  follow. 

If  His  last  utterance,  at  this  time,  in  sight  of  Gennesaret 
was,  that  His  mission  as  the  Son  of  Man  was  "  to  save  the 
lost,"  what  a  theme  was  this  with  which  to  nerve  His  soul 
in  the  prospect  of  that  awful  baptism  !  — "  THE  LOST/'  who  by 
these  sufferings  would  be  reclaimed  ;  — the  countless  myriads 
whose  robes,  through  that  blood-shedding,  should  through 
eternity  be  made  white  ! 

At  that  eventful  moment  His  omniscient  eye  must  have 
had  mapped  out  before  it  all  the  terrible  realities  of  Gethse- 
mane's  Garden  and  Calvary's  Cross — every  thorn  of  the 
crown — every  mark  of  the  nails — every  gash  of  the  spear. 
But  if  such  was  the  dark  foreground  in  the  earthly  picture, 
there  was  a  bright  and  glorious  background — the  perspec- 
tive of  a  palm-bearing  multitude  of  triumphant  victors.  For 
the  joy  that  was  thus  set  before  Him  He  "  endured"  He 
beheld,  in  this  transporting  vista-view,  myriads  who  must 
otherwise  have  become  monuments  of  inexorable  Justice  in 
the  dark  prison-house  of  despair,  made  everlasting  pillars 
in  the  temple  of  God,  saved  by  His  bleeding  love  and  mercy. 
Oh,  when  He  thought  of  that  goodly  harvest  which  was  to  be 
reaped — a  harvest  of  which  His  blood  was  the  costly  seed ; 

x 


322  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

when  he  estimated  that  revenue  of  glory  which,  by  means  of 
His  cross  and  passion,  should,  through  everlasting  ages,  roll 
in  to  the  triune  God,  He  willingly  turned  His  back  on  the 
peaceful  homes  and  hamlets  of  Galilee,  fearlessly  to  confront 
the  hour  of  His  own  tragic  sufferings. 

Is  ours  the  same  joy?  does  this  cheer  us  under  all  the 
trials  to  which  we  may  now  be  subject ; — does  it  nerve  and 
sustain  us  in  the  thought  of  death  itself ; — that  soon  the  nigh't- 
songs  are  to  melt  into  the  praises  of  eternity — the  night- 
shadows  to  merge  in  the  glories  of  unending  day  ?  Amid 
the  light  afflictions  of  the  present,  are  we  keeping  in  view  the 
bliss  which  is  hereafter  to  be  revealed ;  forgetting  the  tossings 
of  the  intervening  ocean  in  the  prospect  of  the  quiet  haven 
and  the  everlasting  rest?  The  earthly  father,  going  to  a 
foreign  land  to  provide  for  his  dependent  family,  is  cheered 
amid  all  the  difficulties  and  privations  which  may  beset  him, 
with  the  thought  of  again  rejoining  them — that  after  a  brief 
struggle  in  an  ungemal  clime,  he  will  be  back  again  amid 
cheerful  faces  and  joyous  welcomes.  Shall  we  not  willingly 
submit  to  any  loss,  any  cross  our  gracious  God  sees  meet  to 
appoint  us,  if  we  can  exult  in  the  well-founded  hope  of  a  bliss- 
ful future — a  glorious  immortality,  where  these  very  losses 
and  crosses  will  be  found  to  turn  into  eternal  gain  ?  Let  the 
sweet  chimes,  coming  floating  on  our  ears  from  the  towers  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  cheer  our  spirits  and  quicken  our  languid 
footsteps.  Let  us  set  our  faces  thitherwards ;  and  though  we 
may  have  our  Kedron-brooks  and  Gethsemanes  of  bitter  sorrow 
now,  let  us  think  of  the  sinless,  sorrowless,  tearless  heaven 
beyond,  where  these  shall  never  more  be  known  or  dreaded ! 

And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  us  ask,  Are  we  ready  for  Death? 


HEKOISM.  323 

— do  the  words  of  this  passage  fall  on  our  ears  as  a  truthful, 
a  beautiful  description  of  the  "inevitable  hour/'  the  time 
when  we  are  to  be  "  received  up  ?"  How  many  are  there  to 
whom  every  thought  of  dissolution  is  strangely  different ; — 
to  whom  death  is  the  most  harrowing  of  prospects — a  dark 
portico  at  whose  shadow  they  tremble ; — a  Grim  Monarch, 
whose  very  name  carries  with  it  terror  and  dismay  ?  No 
wonder  that  it  is  so,  if  you  are  content  to  live  in  guilty 
unreadiness  for  its  advent — if  your  peace  is  to  this  hour  not 
made  with  God — if  you  are  squandering  existence  without 
one  thought  of  Hell  or  Heaven. 

But  if  it  be  otherwise — if  you  have  fled  to  Jesus,  the  Sin- 
ner's Saviour  and  the  Sinner's  Friend ; — if  you  have  person- 
ally appropriated  all  the  benefits  of  His  purchase,  and  are 
living  by  faith  on  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  you  and  gave 
Himself  for  you, — then  is  the  King  of  Terrors  disarmed  of 
his  might ; — he  is  an  unsceptred  and  crownless  monarch ; — 
and  when  you  anticipate  that  solemn  hour  when  he  is  to 
make  inquisition  at  the  house  of  your  earthly  tabernacle,  you 
need  no  longer  think  of  it  with  dread ; — you  may  rather  as- 
sociate it  with  descending  angels  and  ministering  saints 
smoothing  your  pillow,  and  waiting  as  a  celestial  convoy  to 
"receive  you  up." 

Yes,  I  again  say,  Beautiful  figure  !  It  speaks  of  death  as 
an  hour  of  emancipation  and  triumph.  Up  to  that  moment 
you  are,  like  the  fettered  eagle,  chained  down  in  the  earthly 
cage ;  but  a  Messenger  comes  from  the  Spirit- World,  snaps 
the  encumbering  bond,  that  you  may  soar  a  free-born  denizen 
to  your  true  home  in  the  skies  ! 

That  time  must  ere  long  arrive  when  you  shall  be  called  to 


324  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

die.  Are  you  so  living,  that  you  could  bid  a  joyful  farewell 
to  your  pilgrim  warfare  and  joyfully  enter  on  your  pilgrim  rest? 
If  you  cannot  yet  contemplate  unappalled  that  final  hour ; — if 
you  are  still  living  at  a  conscious  distance  from  God,  eternity 
unprepared  for,  your  soul  unsaved  ; — delay  no  longer  repair- 
ing to  Him  who  alone  can  give  you  peace ;  and,  as  you  hear 
Jesus  proclaiming  the  grand  focus  truth  of  His  Gospel — the 
Son  of  Man  is  come  to  save  THE  LOST — as  one  of  THE  LOST 
accompany  Him  in  this  His  final  journey  to  Jerusalem  ; — go 
with  Him  to  His  cross  !  gaze  on  His  bleeding  wounds !  His 
dying  agonies ! — see  what  He  did  to  save  you  and  such  as 
you  !  As  you  listen  to  His  expiring  cry,  "  It  is  finished !" — 
remember  its  comforting  accents  were  meant  to  reach  your 
souls.  Think  not  that  Jerusalem  towards  which  He  calls 
you  to  set  your  face  is  a  prize  beyond  your  reach  !  He  has 
flung  open  its  portals  for  you.  Having  overcome  the  sharp- 
ness of  death,  he  has  opened  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  to  all 
believers.  Ah  !  were  the  procuring  of  that  Heaven  depend- 
ent en  yourself,  then  you  might  well  despond  and  despair. 
But  He  is  the  "Receiver  up" — alike  "  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the 
Life" — "  By  ME  if  any  man  enter  in  he  shall  be  saved  !  "  It 
is  because  His  face  was  set  to  the  Earthly  Jerusalem  that  the 
Heavenly  has  unbarred  its  gates  to  you  !  He  Himself,  by  His 
doing  and  dying,  has  let  down  the  patriarch's  typical  ladder ; 
by  it,  Y°u  are  invited  to  enter  within  the  gates  into  the  city. 
Belying  on  Him  who  lias  thus  "  abolished  death  and  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light,"  you  can,  like  your  Lord,  set 
out  on  the  final  Journey,  saying,  with  the  cross  beside  you 
and  the  crown  above  you,  "  Into  thy  hand  I  commend  my 
spirit ;  for  thou  hast  redeemed  me,  0  Lord  God  of  truth." 


XIX 


Weeper  !  to  thee  how  bright  a  morn  was  given, 
After  thy  loog,  long  vigil  of  despair ; 
When  that  high  voice  which  burial  rocks  had  riven, 
Thrilled  with  immortal  tones  the  silent  air. 
Never  did  clarion  royal  blast  declare 
Such  tale  of  victory  to  a  breathless  crowd, 
As  the  deep  sweetness  of  one  word  could  bear 
Into  thy  heart  of  hearts.     0  woman  !  bowed 
By  strong  affection's  anguish — one  low  word — 
"Mary  /"  and  all  the  triumph  wrung  from  death 
Was  thus  revealed  !  and  thou  that  so  hadst  erred, 
So  wept,  and  been  forgiven,  in  trembling  faith, 
Didst  cast  thee  down  before  th'  all-conquering  Son, 
Awed  by  the  mighty  gift  thy  tears  and  love  had  won. 

"  And  many  women  were  there  beholding  afar  off,  which  followed  Jesus  from 
Galilee,  ministering  unto  him  :  among  which  was  MARY  MAGDALENE." — LUKB 
viii.  1-4 ;  MATT,  xxvii.  55,  56,  and  xxviii.  1-11 ;  JOHH  xx.  1-19. 


MAEY  MAGDALENE. 

THE  history  of  Mary  Magdalene  forms  an  appropriate  link, 
connecting  the  earlier  with  the  later  "memories  of  GENNE- 
SAKET."  Her  holy  and  honoured  ministry  of  love  inter- 
weaves, like  a  golden  thread,  the  tissues  of  that  Greater  Life 
from  which  her  own  derives  all  its  interest  and  sacredness. 

It  is  strange  how  a  name  worthy  of  deepest  reverence 
should,  by  a  popular  misapprehension,  which  has  no  ground 
whatever  to  support  it,  been  confounded  with  that  of  the 
penitent — "  the  Magdalene"  of  the  Pharisee's  house — whose 
striking  history  we  have  already  considered.  Of  MARY'S  pre- 
vious life  we  know  nothing  further,  than  that  she  had  become 
a  miracle  and  monument  of  the  Saviour's  power  and  mercy. 
Her  case  in  the  Western  Magdala*  was  the  counterpart  to 
that  of  the  demoniac  on  the  Eastern  Gadara  shore,  and  the 
exorcism  of  seven  devils,  sufficiently  indicates  the  malignant 
character  of  the  possession.  From  her  name  being  after- 
wards mentioned  along  with  "  Joanna,  the  wife  of  Herod's 

*  A  collection  of  a  few  hovels  stands  at  the  south-eastern  corner  of  the  plain, 
its  name  hardly  altered  from  the  ancient  Magdala  or  Migdol ;  so  called,  pro- 
bably, from  a  watch-tower,  of  which  ruins  appear  to  remain,  that  guarded  the 
entrance  of  the  plain.  Through  its  connexion  with  her  whom  the  long  opinion 
of  the  Church  identified  wirh  the  penitent  sinner,  the  name  of  that  ancient 
tower  has  now  been  incorporated  into  all  the  languages  of  Europe.  A  large 
solitary  thorn-tree  stands  beside  it.  Its  situation,  otherwise  unmarked,  is  digni- 
fied by  the  high  limestone  rock  which  overhangs  it  on  the  south-west,  perforated 
with  caves,  recalling  by  a  curious,  though  doubtless  unintentional  coincidence, 
the  scene  of  Correggio's  celebrated  picture.—  Stanley,  p.  378. 


328  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

steward,  and  Susanna,"  and  it  being  related  of  her,  that 
along  with  these,  "  she  ministered  to  the  Lord  of  her  sub- 
stance ; "  we  may  possibly  infer  that  her  position  in  society 
was  not  the  humblest.  It  may  have  been  one  rather  of  com- 
petence, if  not  of  wealth  and  luxury.  But  what  was  the 
world  with  its  pomp — what  trie  glitter  of  Herod's  court — 
what  the  loveliness  of  hill,  and  shore,  and  sparkling  water, 
that  met  her  eyes  all  around,  when  a  malady  worse  far  than 
withering  paralysis,  or  leper's  taint,  held  her  in  the  chains  of 
Satan  ?  Jesus  (we  know  not  where)  had  found  her.  His 
word  of  power  had  scattered  the  demon-throng ;  and  never 
did  gratitude  so  track  a  deliverer's  footsteps,  with  duteous 
love  and  tears.  From  that  hour  she  became  a  devoted  fol- 
lower of  her  Great  Lord — a  model  Christian,  worthy  the  imita- 
tion of  all  believers,  and  more  especially  those  of  her  own  sex. 
Our  first  introduction  to  her  in  sacred  story,  is  in  a  refer- 
ence the  Evangelist  makes  to  a  missionary  tour  of  Jesus  and 
His  apostles,  through  the  towns  and  villages  of  Galilee.*  It 
is  on  that  occasion  we  find  her  associating  with  the  other 
honoured  females  we  have  already  mentioned,  in  providing 
for  the  wants  of  the  homeless  Saviour.  She  had  probably,  a 
considerable  while  before  this,  been  attached  to  His  person 
and  cause ;  but  with  beautiful  modesty  she  has  kept  in  the 
shade — shunned  publicity.  It  is  only  when  acts  of  womanly 
devotion  and  kindness  are  required,  that  this  quiet  star  is 
seen  noiselessly  and  unobtrusively  shining  in  her  appropriate 
sphere.  In  gentle  considerateness  she  ministers  to  the  indi- 
gence of  her  pilgrim  Lord,  as  she  afterwards  embalmed  His 
corpse,  watched  by  His  shroud,  and  wept  at  His  grave.  No 

*  Luke  viii.  1-4. 


MARY  MAGDALENE.  329 

Apostle  truly,  of  all  the  company,  loved  the  Redeemer  more 
than  she.  It  must  have  been  pure  disinterested  affection 
for  Him,  which  alone  prompted  her  to  undertake  that  long 
journey,  we  spoke  of  in  last  chapter,  to  the  ever  memorable 
Passover  which  witnessed  'His  crucifixion.  The  males  from 
all  Palestine,  it  is  well  known,  were  wont  to  assemble  at  the 
public  festivals  in  Jerusalem,  while  the  females  "  tarried  at 
home."  MAKY,  however,  had  heard  from  His  own  lips  strange 
and  mysterious  intimations  of  approaching  ignominy,  suffer- 
ing, and  death.  She  cannot  brook  the  thought  of  separation 
in  the  prospect  of  an  hour  like  this.  She  feels  she  can  do 
but  little  in  the  way  of  active  service — feeble  would  be  her 
interposition  when  the  hour  of  danger  came — impotent  her 
arm  to  ward  off  those  legion  foes ;  but  if  she  can  do  no  more, 
may  she  not  contrive,  by  word  or  look,  to  solace  these  seasons 
of  mysterious  anguish?  If  death  is  indeed  to  stamp  its 
ghastly  lineaments  on  that  holy  Visage,  can  she  not  be 
hovering  near  at  hand,  to  assist  in  performing  the  last  sad 
tribute  of  affection  ?  may  not  her  hands  serve,  in  some 
unknown  way,  to  soothe  and  smooth  that  dying  pillow,  and 
close  those  lips  which  uttered  the  first  words  of  mercy  her 
soul  ever  heard  ?  Her  resolve  is  taken ;  and  among  "  the 
women  which  followed  him  from  Galilee,"  when  "  he  set  his 
face  stedfastly  to  go  to  Jerusalem,"  was  MAKY  OF  MAGDALA. 
Our  next  meeting  with  her  is  at  the  most  solemn  spot  of 
earth — the  most  solemn  moment  of  all  tin^e — lingering  nigh 
the  cross  on  which  her  adorable  Redeemer  hung,  in  company 
with  "  the  mother  of  Jesus,  and  his  mother's  sister,  and  Mary 
the  wife  of  Cleophas."  How  acute  and  poignant  must  have 
been  the  anguish  of  that  hour — the  rude  taunts  of  ruffian  sol- 


330  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

diery  sounding  in  her  ears — the  cry  of  "  Crucify  Him/'  ascend- 
ing from  the  infuriate  crowd — along  with  other  base  indignities 
offered  to  the  unmurmuring  Sufferer.  How  willingly  would 
her  own  tender  feelings  have  induced  her  to  rush  from  the 
scene  of  ignominy  and  shame,  and  bury  her  griefs,  as  the  dis- 
ciples were  unmanfully  burying  theirs,  in  some  secluded 
chamber  in  Jerusalem.  A  concern  even  for  her  own  personal 
safety,  might  have  dictated  withdrawal  from  that  arena  of 
wild  bloodshed  and  terror;  but  while  others  (His  trusted 
friends)  had  grown  cruelly  faithless,  "perfect  love,"  in  her 
case,  had  "  cast  out  fear  " — her  love  was  "  strong  as  death  ;" 
and  when  in  that  hour,  around  the  cross  of  the  Eternal  Son, 
"  deep  was  calling  unto  deep  " — all  God's  waves  and  billows 
rolling  over  Him — she  gave  proof  of  the  saying,  that  "many 
waters  cannot  quench  love,  nor  many  floods  drown  it." 

Pre-eminent  indeed  was  the  claim  which  that  Saviour  had 
on  the  devoted. gratitude  and  love  of  this  woman.  In  addi- 
tion to  dispossessing  her  body  of  fiendish  tyranny,  enthroning 
reason  on  its  abdicated  seat,  He  had  evidently  lighted  up  her 
soul  with  gospel  peace,  and  cheered  her  future  with  gospel 
hopes.  The  feeling  uppermost  in  her  heart  doubtless  was, 
"  What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  to- 
ward me? "  Like  the  devoted  crew  in  the  sinking  vessel,  who 
will  rather  go  down  with  their  faithful  Captain  than  leave 
Him  in  the  hour  of  extremity — she,  her  sister  Heroines,  and 
the  Beloved  Disciple,  are  willing  to  brave  every  indignity  and 
danger — aye,  death  itself — rather  than  desert  their  gracious 
Lord.  Doubtless,  the  eye  which  from  the  cross  recognised 
His  own  mother  and  named  her,  would  not  fail  to  note,  in 
the  devotion  of  the  kindred  spirit  at  her  side,  a  lovely  sequel 


MAEY  MAGDALENE.  331 

to  previous  constancy  and  devotion.  How  He  would  be 
cheered  and  sustained,  by  this  loving  sympathy,  in  that  hour 
of  all  others  when  He  most  needed  it !  On  the  other  hand, 
how  fondly  would  they  receive  His  last  look  !  How  would 
these  accents  linger  in  their  ears,  as  they  wended  their  sor- 
rowful way  back  to  the  city — "Son,  behold  thy  mother! 
mother,  behold  thy  Son  !" 

But  the  ministry-  of  love  is  not  ended.  Joseph  of  Arima- 
ihea  had  "  begged  the  body  of  Jesus/'  and,  wrapping  it  in  a 
linen  shroud,  "  laid  it  in  a  new  tomb/'  Nicodemus,  too,  had 
provided  a  mixture  of  myrrh  and  aloes — an  hundred  pounds 
weight — and  embalmed  the  corpse.  This,  in  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, might  have  relieved  from  the  need  of  additional 
expenditure  on  costly  spices,  or  making  further  provision  for 
the  interment.  But  theirs  was  no  common,  no  ordinary  at- 
tachment ;  although,  even  in  this  beauteous  tribute  of  affection, 
we  have  proof  that  while  love  was  strong,  faith  was  weak.  Amid 
the  humiliations  of  that  awful  hour,  when  they  beheld  the  King 
of  Terrors  effecting  so  signal  a  triumph,  all  their  fond  hopes 
regarding  the  "Messiahship"  and  "the  kingdom"  seem  buried 
in  their  Lord's  sepulchre.  He  had  told  them  plainly  that  He 
was  to  be  killed,  laid  in  the  grave,  and  in  three  days  rise 
again.*  But  the  insignia  of  death  had  been  so  terribly  im- 
printed on  their  memories  as  to  exclude  every  nobler  presen- 
timent. The  preparation  we  find  them  making  for  embalm- 
ing the  body,  too  truly  reveals  the  irresistible  conviction 
which  had  seized  their  minds,  that  His  flesh  was  to  share  the 
common  doom  of  mortality,  and  to  be  laid  in  its  long  home. 

The  spices  and  perfumes  were  duly  purchased  on  the  Fri- 
*  Luke  xx  iv.  6,  7. 


332  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESARET. 

day  evening ;  and  after  the  hours  of  the  paschal  Sabbath  (the 
most  sacred  of  all  the  year)  had  elapsed,  Mary  Magdalene  is 
seen,  in  the  early  dawn  of  the  first  day  of  the  week,  hastening 
to  the  spot  where  all  she  most  loved  lay  silent  in  the  domain 
of  death.  As  she  and  the  other  Galilee  women  enter  the 
garden  gate,  their  first  thought  is  as  to  how  they  shall  be 
able  to  remove  the  incumbent  stone.  They  are  nearing  the 
spot.  Lo !  the  stone  is  already  rolled  aside ; — its  fragments  are 
scattered  around  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre.  MARY,  in  a 
moment  of  panic,  leaves  her  companions  and  rushes  into  the 
city  to  carry  to  the  disciples  the  tidings  of  the  deserted  grave. 
The  thought  of  rude  hands  pillaging  the  sepulchre,  and 
taking  the  loved  Inmate  away,  alone  seems  to  have  occupied 
her.  She  has  never  entertained  the  possibility  of  her  Lord 
having  risen.  She  had  expected  to  have  seen  his  cherished 
form  again,  to  have  bathed  his  pale  countenance  with  her 
tears,  and  laid  the  embalmed  corpse  in  its  rocky  bed.  Blinded 
to  grander  realities  by  her  overmastering  grief,  in  an  agony  of 
sorrow  she  pours  out  her  painful  tale  to  the  disciples,  "  They, 
have  taken  away  the  Lord  out  of  the  sepulchre,  and  we  know 
not  where  they  have  laid  him/' 

Meanwhile,  the  other  women  who  have  lingered  behind,  see 
a  young  man  seated  in  the  vacant  tomb,  clad  in  long  white 
raiment — the  emblem  of  gladness.  He  announces  the  start- 
ling tidings  that  the  Lord  they  loved  had  risen,  that  He  was 
to  go  before  them  into  Galilee,  that  Gennesaret  and  its  shores 
were  again  to  hear  the  familiar  music  of  His  voice.  "  He 
goeth  before  you  into  Galilee,  there  shall  ye  see  him,  as  he  said 
unto  you/'* 

•  Matt,  xxviii.  7, 


MARY  MAGDALENE. 


333 


Peter  and  John,  on  hearing  the  strange  account  from  the 
lips  of  Mary,  had  hastened  to  the  sepulchre.  They  had 
entered  it — beheld  with  their  own  eyes  the  napkin  and  linen 
clothes  lying  by  themselves,  (the  undoubted  trophies  of  vic- 
tory,) and  yet,  with  mingled  doubt,  and  wonder,  and  terror, 
they  "  went  away  again  unto  their  own  home  ! "  Mary,  un- 
able to  run  so  quickly  as  they,  had  followed  their  steps  to 
the  tomb,  where  (in  the  most  touching  portion  of  the  won- 
drous story)  we  find  her  alone,  alone  with  her  tears.  "Mary 
stood  without  at  the  sepulchre  weeping !"  Still  is  the  idea  of 
a  risen  Saviour  by  her  undreamt  of.  She  is  filled  with  sor- 
row at  the  loss  of  a  lovel  friend — indignant,  poignant  anguish 
at  the  thought  of  rude  hands  and  iron  hearts  stealing  His 
remains  away.  The  death  stillness  in  that  silent  place  seemed 
to  echo  the  dismal  taunt,  "  Where  is  now  thy  God  ? " 

For  the  first  time  she  ventures  a  nearer  inspection  of  the 
grave.  Stooping  down  into  the'  deserted  vault — lo,  two 
angel  forms  have  taken  their  places,  "  the  one  at  the  head, 
the  other  at  the  foot  where  the  body  of  the  Lord  had  lain/' 
The  celestial  messengers  are  the  first  to  break  silence.  In 
affectionate  sympathy  with  her  fast-falling  tears,  they  put 
the  question,  "  Woman,  why  weepest  thou  ?"  We  might 
have  expected  at  that  lonely  hour  and  lonely  spot,  with  two 
mysterious  visitants  from  the  spirit  world,  that  she  would 
have  been  agitated  and  affrighted ;  but  her  grief  was  too 
acute,  her  mind  too  much  rivetted  on  one  absorbing  topic. 
She  repeats  her  sorrowful  answer,  "  They  have  taken  away 
my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him" 

There  is  often,  at  a  time  of  trial  and  bereavement,  some 
peculiar  phrase  or  turn  of  expression  which  we  come  almost 


334  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

mechanically  to  use,  and  which  seems  at  last  naturally  to  well 
forth  from  the  depths  of  the  smitten  heart.  We  find,  in  tho 
case  of  Martha  and  Maiy  of  Bethany,  that  the  stereotyped 
utterance -in  their  season  of  bereavement  was,  "If  the  Lord 
had  been  here,  our  brother  had' not  died.''  In  MARY'S  caso 
she  seems  to  have  attuned  her  lips  to  the  plaintive  lament, 
"They  hare  taken  away  my  Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  him."  She  reminds  us  of  the  picture  given  in  the 
Song  of  Solomon,  of  the  spouse  roaming  the  streets  of  the 
city  with  dishevelled  tresses  and  tearful  eye,  in  search  of  her 
Beloved,  saying,  "I  sought  him,  but  I  found  him  not;  I 
called  upon  him,  but  he  gave  me  no  answer." 

But  "  the  Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for  him,  unto 
the  soul  that  seeketh  him/'  She  hears  a  footfall,  and  in 
turning  about  sees  by  her  side  a  Solitary  Figure.  The  angel's 
question  is  repeated.  The  Stranger  asks  the  cause  of  these 
hot  tears.  She  supposes  him  to  be  the  gardener,  and  in  im- 
portunate urgency  demands — "Sir,  if  thou  have  borne  him 
hence,  tell  me  where  thou  hast  laid  him,  and  I  will  take  him 
away."  Love  will  brave  anything ;  it  feels  as  if  it  could 
cope  with  impossibilities,  even  though  it  should  be  a  female 
arm  bearing  away  a  dead  body  by  its  own  unaided  strength. 
One  word  from  the  Stranger's  lips  dissipates  every  shadow  of 
darkness, — dries  every  tear — "  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  MARY  ! " 
It  was  the  first  word  His  risen  tongue  had  spoken.  MARY  ! 
He  needed  no  other  utterance.  It  is  "  the  voice  of  the  Be- 
loved !"  "His  sheep  know  his  voice."  He  calleth  this  His 
own  sheep  by  name,  and  leadeth  her  out !  "  She  turned  herself, 
and  saith  unto  Him,  RABBONI,  which  is  to  say,  MASTER  ! " 

Wondrous  meeting  between  the  great  moral  Conqueror 


MAEY  MAGDALENE.  335 

and  a  weeping  woman  !  between  the  Great  and  Good  Shep- 
herd and  this  bleating  sheep  of  His  smitten  and  scattered 
flock.  The  Shepherd  had  been  "  smitten" — the  sheep  had 
been  "scattered" — but  He  is  now  fulfilling  the  accompany- 
ing promise,  "/  will  turn  mine  hand  upon  the  little  ones."  • 
And  how  gently  that  hand  is  turned !  He  appeared  to  her  in 
no  overpowering  splendour,  no  outdazzling  glory.  She  mis- 
takes Him  for  the  gardener.  Though  surrounded  with  the 
evidences  of  victory,  He  is  still  the  lowly  MAN,  the  Brother, 
the  Friend.  He  rose  with  the  same  heart  of  unaltered  and 
unalterable  love  with  which  he  died,  "  THAT  SAME  JESUS  !  " 
The  experience  of  the  Psalmist  was  fulfilled  in  that  of  this 
honoured  disciple — "  They  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in 
joy/'  Weeping  had  endured  during  the  two  preceding 
nights,  but  joy  came  in  the  morning.  She  rushes  into  the 
city  with  her  heart  bursting  with  the  wondrous  tidings — 
"  /  have  seen  the  Lord  !  "  Words  long  familiar  to  her,  had 
now  a  new  and  nobler  meaning  impressed  on  them  as  they 
glowed  under  the  sunbeams  of  A  FIKST  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH, 
— "  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made,  we  will 
rejoice  and  be  glad  of  it !  " 

Ah,  how  God  honours  waiting  faith  !  The  Disciples,  in 
their  doubt  and  selfish  sorrow,  had  stood  aloof  from  the  scene 
of  ignominy  and  death — they  forfeited  the  first  glorious  sur- 
prise, the  first  coveted  benediction.  But  Mary  had  continued 
at  her  ministry  of  watchful  love,  and  in  her  case  a  new  testi- 
mony was  added  to  the  faithfulness  of  God  to  His  own 
recorded  promise — a  promise  equally  applicable  to  his  wait- 
ing, watchful,  prayerful  people  in  every  age — "  Wait  on  the 
*  Zech.  xiii.  7. 


336  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

Lord,  be  of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen  thine 
heart ;  wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord" 

Let  us  learn,  from  the  experience  of  Mary,  the  true  and  only 
source  of  comfort  to  the  dejected,  downcast,  sorrowing  spirit. 
Angels  were  there.  They  had  spoken  to  her  kind  and  sooth- 
ing words,  but  they  could  not  dry  one  tear.  They  found 
her  in  floods  of  grief,  and  in  grief  they  left  her.  It  was  not 
till  the  Lord  of  Angels  drew  nigh  and  spake,  that  her  sorrow 
was  turned  into  joy  ! 

Observe,  moreover,  that  it  was  not  the  Form  of  Christ — 
His  bodily  appearance — that  dispelled  her  doubt  and  lighted 
up  her  soul  with  peace.  It  was  His  VOICE  !  that  mighty 
Voice  which  had  first  bid  away  the  demon-throng  that 
ruled  her  wretched  body !  The  Person  of  Jesus  is  now 
withdrawn  from  the  eyes  of  His  church.  His  glorified  body 
is  hid  from  our  view  within  the  curtained  splendours  of  the 
Holiest  of  all.  But  His  Voice  is  still  heard.  The  echoes 
of  His  tender  soul  are  still  preserved  fresh  to  us  as  they 
sounded  to  Mary,  in  His  own  Blessed  Word.  We  can  still 
write  over  every  precious  promise  it  contains,  "  Thus  saith 
the  Lord;"  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you." 

And  now,  we  might  imagine  Mary's  joy  complete.  Jesus 
is  once  more  by  her  side.  The  "  little  time  "  He  spake  of, 
"  Ye  shall  not  see  me,"  is  now  past.  She  has  entered  on  the 
"while"  that  "Ye  shall  see  me  /"  There  seems  now  to  lie 
before  her,  a  happy  future  of  perpetual  intercourse,  that  is  to 
know  no  interruption  till  her  own  dissolution  summon  her 
away  !  But  different  are  His  purposes  towards  His  Church 
and  people.  "  Touch  me  not,"  says  He,  "  for  I  am  not  yet 
ascended  to  my  Father ;  but  go  to  my  brethren,  and  say  unto 


MARY  MAGDALENE.  337 

them,  I  ascend  unto  my  Father  and  your  Father,  and  to  my 
God  and  your  God/'*  His  work  is  incomplete  if  He  do 
not  ascend  to  His  Mediatorial  Throne.  Though  dear  to  them 
would  have  been  His  living,  loving,  personal  Presence,  yet 
there  are  purposes  of  mercy  still  unfulfilled  which  demand 
His  departure — the  Intercessory  work — the  comforting  Mis- 
sion of  the  Paraclyte.  He  is  to  leave  them,  and  yet  not  to 
leave  them.  Tossed  on  Gennesaret,  He  is  still  up  on  the 
Heavenly  Hill  bending  on  their  agitated  bark  His  watchful 
eye,  and  coming  invisibly  to  their  aid  in  every  hour  of 
extremity. 

"  Touch  me  not,  for  I  am  not  yet  ascended  !"  But,  did 
not  these  words  indicate  to  that  lowly  disciple  that  there  was 
a  time  coming  (though  not  now)  when  she  should  touch  Him  ? 
Yes,  on  the  Last  and  Great  Day,  when  He  was  to  come 
again  and  receive  His  people  to  Himself,  and  to  utter  in  their 
hearing  the  joyous  word  cf  welcome,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my 
Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world ! "  This  Eesurrection  Morning  at  Gol- 
gotha was  in  one  sense  a  "  coming  again"  but  not  the 
GKEAT  coming  !  He  is  now  a  Pilgrim  Lord,  in  haste  to  be 
gone  to  finish  in  glory  His  vast  undertaking.  But  soon 
these  clouds  shall  be  rent,  and  soon  the  Conqueror  of  Calvary, 
seated  on  His  throne,  will  greet  the  no  longer  weeping 
Magdalene  with  tL«j  old  name  of  affection  ; — in  unutterable 
love  He  will  say  unto  her,  MAEY  !  She  was  not  ashamed  of 
Him  and  His  word,  while  other  disciples  were ;  and  He  will 
then  "  confess  her  name  before  his  Father  and  before  the 

holy  angels"     Great  was  Mary's  honour  and  privilege  in 

'*,    . 

*  John  xx.  17. 

I 


338  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

seeing  a  dying  and  a  risen  Jesus — in  being  last  at  His  cross 
and  first  at  His  sepulchre.  But  if  we  be  of  Mary's  faith, 
and  partake  of  her  lowly  self-denying  love,  we  shall  be 
sharers  too  in  her  joy  on  that  glorious  Easter-morn  of  Crea- 
tion, when  our  Lord  shall  come  forth,  not  from  the  swaddling 
bands  of  death,  but  with  His  head  encircled  "with  many 
crowns."  She  "  ministered  to  Him  of  her  substance/'  and 
waited  on  His  person  with  unwearying  devotedness.  Though 
in  this  respect  we  cannot  imitate  her,  we  can  do  what  is  in 
His  sight  equivalent ; — we  can  bestow  our  time,  our  substance, 
our  personal  exertions,  in  lowly  offices  of  love  and  mercy  to 
His  people — "  Ye  did  it  unto  THEM/'  "  Ye  did  it  unto  ME \" 

We  know  nothing  further  of  Mary's  earthly  history  beyond 
what  is  here  told  us  regarding  the  interview  at  the  sepul- 
chre. It  is  more  than  probable — nay,  we  believe  certain — 
that  she  met  Him  again  on  his  return  to  Galilee,  and  followed 
His  footsteps  on  her  loved  native  shore.  The  last  words 
recorded  as  having  been  uttered  by  her  are  these — "  I  HAVE 
SEEN  THE  LORD  !  "  They  are  true  of  her  at  this  hour  !  She 
is  now  "  seeing  "  Him  without  a  tear,  and  that  for  ever  and 
ever ! 

May  Mary's  gladsome  exclamation  be  ours,  when  we  are 
waking  from  our  sepulchres !  In  turning  round  at  the 
Archangel's  summons  in  the  darksome  cell  of  the  grave,  may 
it  be  to  see  Jesus  standing  with  looks  and  tones  of  ineffable 
kindness,  ready  to  pronounce  our  name  as  one  written  in  His 
own  Book  of  Life  !  Happy  for  us  if  we  can  say,  even  now, 
in  joyful  hope,  "  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be,  but 
we  know  that  when  He  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  Him, 
for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is  !" 


MAEY  MAGDALENE.  339 

Meanwhile  let  us  exult  in  Him  as  an  unchanged  and 
unchanging  Saviour — a  Brother  born  for  adversity.  The 
message  which  Mary  bore  to  the  disciples  was  a  message  to 
the  Church  in  every  age — "  Go,  tell  my  BRETHREN/'  Com- 
forting thought !  The  risen,  exalted,  crowned  Jesus  is  "not 
ashamed  to  call  us  Brethren  !  "  Even  when  He  stood  on  the 
field  of  His  triumph — Death  a  dethroned  monarch  under 
His  feet ! — yes,  even  then,  when  the  glories  of  Heaven  were 
full  in  view, — the  crown,  the  throne,  the  universal  homage — 
when  He  saw  the  gates  of  Heaven  lifting  up  their  heads,  that 
He,  the  King  of  Glory,  might  enter  in — He  speaks  of  the 
redeemed  sinners  he  came  to  r  ave  as  Brethren  !  And  when 
He  refers  to  His  own  entrance  into  the  beatific  presence — the 
glorified  Son  returning  to  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal  Father 
— mark  His  words — "  MY  Father  and  YOUR  Father,  MY  God 
and  YOUR  God  !  " 

Arise,  then,  and  let  us  go  on  our  way  rejoicing.  We  have 
glorious  anticipations ! — we  have  a  glorious  Precursor !  "Lo  !" 
said  the  angel,  "He  goeih  before  you  into  Galilee!"  Joyous 
must  have  been  the  thought  to  Mary  and  the  other  women,  in 
returning  the  long  road  to  their  distant  home,  the  certainty 
of  their  again  meeting  their  Lord!  If  they  had  left  Judea 
under  the  impression  that  they  had  bid  Him  farewell  for 
ever — that  ere  they  reached  the  shores  of  Tiberias  the  chariot- 
cloud  would  have  borne  Him  away — with  heavy  and  discon- 
solate hearts  would  they  have  set  out  on  their  pilgrimage ! 
But  the  angel's  implicit  word — "  There  shall  ye  see  Him,"* — 
must  have  put  gladness  into  their  hearts,  and  caused  then 
with  buoyant  footstep  to  undertake  the  journey  « 

*  This  is  repeated  by  Himself,  Mfctt.  xxviii.  10. 


oiO  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Pilgrim  believers  !  yours  is  the  same  strong  consolation ! 
You  shall  meet  Him  again  on  a  better  than  any  GENNESARET 
shore,  to  enjoy  blessed  interchanges  of  love,  an  everlasting 
Sabbath-feast  in  a  Sabbath  world  ! 

" He  goeth  before  you"  It  is  a  blessed  watchword  for 
every  Zionward  Traveller.  You  need  not  dread  the  way  to 
the  "  long  home/' — "  He  goeth  before  you,  lo  !  He  Himself 
told  you  ! "  Have  your  eye  ever  fixed  on  these  Heavenly 
shores,  these  everlasting  hills;  for  "THERE  SHALL  YE  SEP 
HIM!" 


XX. 

on 


Sun  of  my  soul !  Thou  Saviour  dear, 
It  is  no'  ni  lit  if  Thou  be  near  ; 
Oh  !  in  L.      o  e.u-tli-born  cloud  arise 
To  hid.  The    f<  om  Thy  servant's  eyes. 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  to  eve, 
For  without  Thee  I  cannot  live  ; 
Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh, 
For  \vithcut  Thee  I  dare  not  die. 

Thou  Frainer  of  the  light  and  dark, 
Steer  through  the  tempest  Thine  own  ark ; 
Amid  the  howling  wintry  sea, 
We  are  in  port  if  we  have  Thee. 

Come  near  and  bless  us  when  we  wake, 
Ere  through  the  world  our  way  we  take, 
Till  in  the  ocean  of  Thy  love 
We  lose  ourselves  in  heaven  above. 

"After  these  things  Jesus  shewed  himself  again  to  the  disciples  at  the  SEA.  OF 
TIBERIAS  ;  and  on  this  wise  shewed  he. himself." — JOHN  xxi.  1-15. 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHOBE. 

WE  are  once  more  summoned  in  thought,  in  this  beautiful 
closing  chapter  of  John's  Gospel,*  to  the  Lake  of  GENNE-' 
SAEET. 

Since  we  last  followed  the  footsteps  of  JESUS  there,  the 
Great  event  had  been  accomplished.  That  Adorable  Being, 
whose  miracles  of  love  and  power  had  hallowed  its  shores, 
had  expired  in  anguish  on  the  cross,  and  risen  in  triumph 
from  the  tomb.  The  mighty  debt  of  ransomed  myriads  had 
been  paid ;  glory  had  been  secured  to  God  in  the  highest, 
peace  on  earth,  and  good- will  to  men ! 

We  do  not  wonder  to  find  that  the  Disciple's  have  returned 
again  to  their  native  sea,  when  we  recall  the  announcement 
referred  to  in  the  preceding  chapter,  made  first  by  the 
angels  and  repeated  by  the  Lord  Himself,  that  He  wras  "to  go 
before  them  into  Galilee,"  and  that  there  they  were  to  see 
Him. 

We  naturally  love  those  localities  which  have  been  specially 
consecrated  to  us  by  early  and  hallowed  associations.  No 
spot  is  so  dear  to  the  Hero,  on  his  return  from. the  scene  of 
his  triumphs,  as  the  village  where  he  was  born,  or  the  banks 

*  This  chapter  appears,  and  probably  is  in  the  exactest  sense  of  the  word,  a 
•postscript.  ...  If  we  call  John  i.  1-14,  the  prologue,  this  we  miuht  style  the 
epilogue  6f  his  Compel.  As  that  set  forth  what  the  Son  of  God  was,  before  He 
came  from  the  Father,  even  so  this,  in  mystical  and  prophetic  guise,  ho\v  He 
should  rule  in  the  world  after  He  had  "returned  to  the  Father." — Trench  on  the 
Miracles,  p.  453,  454. 


344  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

of  the  stream  where  childhood,  in  its  young  morning  of  joy 
and  hope,  delighted  to  wander.  More  cherished  still  is  the 
place  associated  with  spiritual  blessings — the  room  sanctified 
by  a  father's  counsels  and  a  mother's  Dray  era — the  dwelling 
where  we  heid  endeared  communion  and  intercourse  with 
Christian  and  congenial  hearts — the  House  of  God  where  we 
first  listened  to  the  joyous  word  which  brought  life  and  peace 
•to  our  souls. 

Might  not  Jesus,  AS  MAN,  participate  to  some  degree  in 
such  feelings,  when  we  find  Him  now  seeking  out  once  more 
His  loved  and  honoured  haunts  on  Tiberias  ere  He  ascended 
to  glory?  Every  creek  and  bay,  every  hamlet  and  moun- 
tain slope,  had  some  memorial  of  mingled  majesty  and  love. 
There  poverty,  disease,  demon  fury,  death  itself,  had  sur- 
rendered and  succumbed  at  His  word.  The  very  sea  and 
storm  had  owned  His  might,  and  crouched  submissive  at  the 
same  omnipotent  mandate. 

And  if  these  scenes  were  sacred  and  hallowed  to  the  Master, 
equally  sacred  would  they  be  to  the  Disciples.  There  they 
had  listened  to  His  utterances  of  matchless  wisdom — there 
they  had  been  summoned  by  Him  to  undertake  their  Great 
Embassy.  Busy  as  they  were  now  once  more  at  their  old 
occupation  on  the  Lake,  wherever  they  turned  their  eye,  its 
undulating  shores  must  have  been  fragrant  with  His  name 
and  presence.  Capernaum  rose  before  them  with  its  crowded 
memories  of  power  and  mercy.  Yonder  were  the  bifurcated 
peaks  of  Hattin,  where  the  most  wondrous  of  discourses 
was  uttered ; — yonder  was  the  plain,  flushed  now  with  the 
loveliness  of  spring,  where  the  Sower  had  sowed ; — yonder, 
in  the  far  north,  was  the  green  table-land  where  the  barley 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHOEE.  345 

loaves  were  dealt  out  as  emblems  of  mightier  spiritual  bless- 
ings;— yonder,  hiding  itself  amid  sterner  nature,  was  the  scene 
of  demoniacal  conquest ; — there,  yet  again,  the  bleak  mountain 
oratory,  where  the  Lord  of  all  this  wondrous  Panorama  poured 
out  His  soul  in  the  ear  of  His  Father.  And  when  night  fell, 
and  the  stars  looked  down,  at  one  moment,  from  their  silent 
thrones,  and  the  next  were  swept  from  the  heavens  by 
the  sudden  blast,  the  Apostle  fishermen  would  remember  the 
august  Form  who  trode  erewhile  these  very  waters,  and  the 
Voice  that  mingled  with  the  meanings  of  the  tempest,  saying, 
"Peace,  be  still" — "Fear  not,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid." 

Can  we  doubt  that  these  solemn  and  manifold  remem- 
brances would  now  oft  tune  their  lips  on  their  lonely  night 
watch; — that  day  after  day  they  would  be  thus  interrogating 
one  another,  "Where  shall  we  see  Him?"  "When  shall  we 
again  hear  His  longed-for  voice?"  He  is  faithful  who  pro- 
mised that  He  would  meet  us  here  again.  "  Even  so  ;  come, 
Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly/' 

Seven  of  them — James  and  John,  Peter,  Thomas,  Nathanael, 
and  probably  Andrew  and  Philip — have  been  out  on  the  Lake 
the  livelong  night ;  but  their  toil,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  is 
unrecompensed.  Morning  begins  to  streak  the  mountains  of 
Naphtali — distant  Hermon  is  unveiling  his  diadem  of  snow. 
As  they  approach  within  a  few  culits  of  the  shore,  in  the 
grey  dawn  of  that  morning-light,  a  lone  figure  attracts  their 
eye — "  they  knew  not  that  it  ivas  JESUS  !  "  The  first  word 
He  uttered  might  have  told  them  all! — "CHILDREN!" 
Yet  still  they  recognise  Him  not !  He  appears  but  as  a 
passing  wayfarer  whom  curiosity  has  drawn  to  watch  the 
mooring  of  the  boat  or  the  shingle !  He  inquires  if  they 


34)6  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

have  any  meat,  any  fish  captured  that  might  serve  for  a  morn- 
ing meal  ?  They  answer  despondingly  that  they  had  none  ! 
The  mysterious  Stranger  bids  them  "cast  out  on  the  right 
side  of  the  ship."  The  result  was  so  vast  an  enclosure  of 
fishes  that  they  were  unable  to  draw  it  to  land.  The  quick- 
sightedness  of  love  discerns  the  divine  Presence; — the  simi- 
larity of  the  present  with  a  former  occasion  has  led  the 
Beloved  John  to  scrutinise  more  closely  the  person  of  the 
Speaker.*  Catching  up  the  sweet  music  of  that  well-known 
voice,  he  is  the  first  to  reveal  the  joyous  secret,  whispering  it 
first  with  half-trembling  lips  into  the  ear  of  his  chief  asso- 
ciate,— "  It  is  the  Lord  !  "  Peter,  with  characteristic  impe- 
tuosity and  fervour,  girts  around  him  his  coarse  fisherman's 
tunic,  springs  into  the  sea  and  swims  a  hundred  yards  to  shore, 
in  order  that  he  may  cast  himself  soonest  at  the  feet  of  his 
Great  and  Good  Master.  The  other  disciples  follow  at  leisure, 
dragging  with  them  the  net  with  its  encumbering  load ! 

Who  can  describe  the  profound  emotion  of  that  meeting — 
at  that  calm  hour  when  all  nature  was  hushed  and  still  ?  It 
is  simply  and  artlessly  told  in  the  Gospel  narrative.  No 
strong  or  exaggerated  effects  are  inserted  by  the  Apostle  to 
mutilate  the  simple  grandeur  of  the  picture.  Not  a  tear, 
not  a  word,  not  a  question  is  recorded.  Nay,  in  significant 
silence  they  confront  THE  HOLY  ONE — "  None  of  the  disciples 
durst  ask  him,  Who  art  thou  ?  knowing  that  it  was  the  Lord  !" 

But  there  was  a  strange — it  may  be  a  miraculous — pro- 
vision ready  for  them  at  that  landing-place — "  afire  of  coals, 
fish  laid  therein,  and  bread."  The  feast  had  been  pre- 
pared by  their  adorable  Lord.  Ere  inviting  to  partake  of  it, 

*  Alford. 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SIIOBE.  347 

however,  He  bade  them  drag  their  nets  to  land.  Peter  in  a 
moment  complied  with  the  request,  and  it  is  specially  noted 
that,  full  as  the  net  was,  and  that  too  of  "great  fishes,"  it 
was  brought  on  shore  unbroken. 

"  Come  and  dine"  *  was  the  brief  invitation  tendered  and 
accepted.  The  Master  and  his  seven  disciples  surround  that 
lowly  board.  "  Jesus  came,  and  took  bread,  and  gave  them, 
and  fish  likewise" 

Strange  and  mysterious  transaction  !  We  are  at  once  led 
to  inquire  as  to  its  signification  and  meaning.  A  feast  of 
the  kind  did  not  seem  in  itself  necessary  at  that  spot  or  hour. 
The  fishermen  disciples  were  near  their  own  Bethsaida  dwell- 
ings, and  the  risen  body  of  the  great  Eedeemer,  we  have 
reason  to  believe,  was  not  dependent,  as  it  was  before  the 
Resurrection,  on  the  "  bread  which  perisheth"  to  sustain  it. 
We  have  already  found  that  many  of  our  Lord's  actions 
around  these  shores  were  symbolic  of  some  great  spiritual 
truths.  We  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt  that  the  present  is 
to  be  classified  with  these,  and  that  that  morning  hour  and 
morning  meal  were  fraught  with  momentous  lessons  to  the 
disciple-guests,  and  to  the  Church  in  every  age. 

Let  us  seek,  with  God's  blessing,  to  gather  from  this  minute 
narration  some  of  that  solemn  instruction  it  was  designed  to 
impart,  specially  to  the  disciples,  and,  in  the  main,  also  to 
ourselves. 


I.  Before  speaking  of  the  Feast,   let  us,  for  a  moment, 

*  "  The  verb  (apivrav),  like  the  Latin  prandere,  was  applied  by  the  ancients 
to  any  meal  which  was  taken  before  supper,  and  in  Greek  writers,  even  in 
Homer  himself,  Spurrw  signifies  breakfast.  That  meal  is  intended  in  thi* 
passage." — Titman's  Commentary  on  St  John,  p.  346. 


34)8  MEMOIUKS  OF 

advert  to  the  same  general  lesson,  which  a  previous  similar 
incident  furnished,  that  God  honours  and  consecrates  daily 
toil 

The  disciples  met  their  Lord  while  they  were  engaged 
with  their  nets  and  boats,  prosecuting  their  former  calling. 
A  risen  Jesus  would  thus  teach  us,  that  instead  of  worldly 
industry  proving  a  hindrance  and  impediment  to  the  reli- 
gious life,  it  may  rather,  if  not  perverted  and  abused,  become 
the  very  channel  through  which  God  delights  to  meet  His 
people — 

"  We  need  not  bid  for  cloistered  cell, 
Our  neighbour  and  our  work  farewell." 

It  is  a  healthful  and  encouraging  lesson  in  this  every-day 
working  world  of  ours — to  the  merchant  at  his  desk,  and  the 
apprentice  at  his  counter,  the  artizan  at  his  hammer,  the 
ploughman  at  his  field,  and  the  cottager  at  her  wheel.  It 
tells  that  that  tear  and  wear — that  "  loud  stunning  tide  "  of 
human  care  and  incessant  toil — so  far  from  being  incompa- 
tible with  the  service  of  God,  may  be  made  by  Him  the  very 
medium  for  higher  ind  more  exalted  revelation  of  Himself. 

There  are  times,  indeed,  when  worldly  work — the  grinding 
wheels  of  business — must  be  hushed,  and  we  are  alone  with 
God.  There  are  solemn  seasons  when  the  din  of  earth  dare 
not  intrude; — Closet  hours — Sabbath  hours — Sanctuary 
hours,  without  which  the  spiritual  life  would  langui.'li  and  die. 
Jesus  had  met  the  Disciples  lately,  in  "  an  upper  chamber  in 
Jerusalem/'  It  was  their  solemn  convocation  on  the  first  day 
of  the  week  ; — Gennesaret,  with  its  nets  and  fish  ing- vessels, 
was  forgotten  then  ; — it  was  the  Day  and  the  Place  of  prayer 
and  communion.  Jesus  met  them  as  He  delights  to  meet 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHOKE.  3  ±9 

His  people  still  in  their  Sabbath  assembly,  and  "breathed 
upon  them,  and  said,  Peace  be  unto  you,  receive  ye  the  Holy 
Ghost !'"  But  having  shewn  us  these,  His  own  disciples,  in 
their  Sabbath  attire,  he  would  seek  to  shew  us  them  also  in 
the  rough  undress  of  every-Jay  life.  He  had  left  them  for  a 
while  with  the  indefinite  assurance — "  I  go  before  you  into 
Galilee,  there  shall  ye  see  me."  How,  meanwhile,  are  they  to 
employ  themselves  ?  are  they  to  remain  in  listless  inactivity 
at  their  native  village  ?  are  their  boats  to  be  moored  on  the 
beach,  and  their  old  means  of  honest  industry  abandoned? 
No  ;  if  there  be  no  immediate  apostolic  work  ready  for  them, 
like  their  "  beloved  brother  Paul,"  at  a  future  day,  when,  side 
by  side  with  the  tent-makers  of  Corinth,  he  plied  his  busy 
task,  they  will  teach  a  great  lesson,  to  the  world  and  the 
Church,  of  how  God  loves  honest  earnestness  in  our  lawful 
worldly  callings,  and  how,  moreover,  diligence  in  business 
may  be  combined  with  fervency  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord  ! 
Jesus  tells  us  He  is  to  meet  us  again  ;  but  we  are  not,  mean- 
while, with  hermit  spirits,  to  abandon  life's  great  duties.  We 
are  to  prosecute  these  with  unabated  ardour.  Let  us  never 
forget  that  it  was  while  the  disciples  were  out,  as  formerly, 
with  their  fishing  craft,  toiling  all  night,  and  returning  faint 
and  weary  in  the  morning  light,  that  Jesus  met  them  and 
put  honour  on  their  laborious  efforts  by  bidding  them  "  let 
down  once  more  for  a  draught,"  and  filling  their  empty  net 
with  a  multitude  of  fishes! 

II.  The  disciples  were  reminded,  by  this  renewed  mira- 
culous capture,  of  their  former  call  and  consecration  as 
FISHERS  OF  MEX 


350  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

Their  Lord  had  put  signal  honour  upon  them;  constituting 
them  His  companions,  and  apportioning  for  them  a  work  of 
unparalleled  magnitude,  responsibility,  and  honour.  But 
during  an  interval  of  time  fraught  with  momentous  conse- 
quences to  the  world,  they  had  proved  unworthy  of  their 
distinguished  trust — they  had  become  traitors  to  their  Master 
— cowards  in  adversity.  Might  He  not  transfer  the  aposto- 
late  to  others?  How  could  He  still  confide  to  the  trembling 
band  that  had  cowered  in  terror  when  the  Shepherd  was 
smitten  (one  of  their  number  basely  denying  Him) — how 
could  He  still  confide  to  them  a  vast  commission  which,  in 
the  first  hour  when  their  heroism  had  been  tested,  they  had 
basely  trampled  under  foot  ?  No  !  they  had  fainted  and  grown 
weary  of  Him — might  He  not  justly  have  grown  weary  of 
them  ?  But  "  the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the  Creator  of 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary.  He 
giveth  power  to  the  faint;  and  to  them  who  have  no  might 
He  increaseth  strength/'  The  gospel-net  is  still  to  be  en- 
trusted to  their  hands.  At  His  word  myriads  of  immortal 
souls  should,  through  their  instrumentality,  be  enclosed  in  it. 
He  would,  moreover,  comfort  them  with  the  assurance  of  His 
continual  presence  and  blessing; — that,  in  the  darkest  night  of 
their  worldly  or  spiritual  toil,  they  might  think  of  a  Great 
and  Wise  Provider — a  wakeful  eye  of  Heavenly  love  that 
would  never  suffer  them  to  toil  unowned  and  unrecompensed. 
While,  on  the  one  hand,  He  would  seek  them  to  feel  their 
iitkT  impotency  without  His  presence  and  blessing,  He  would 
also  assure  them  of  the  triumphant  success  which  should  fol- 
low, and  must  ever  follow,  His  omnipotent  word  and  prompt 
obedience  to  it ; — that,  being  "  stedfast,  unmovable,  always 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHOEE.  351 

abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord/'  their  labour  in  the  Lord 
should  not  be  in  vain  ! 

III.  Another  truth  this  GENNESAEET  scene  was  designed 
to  teach,  is  the  glorious  and  safe  ingathering  of  the  whole 
Church  of  God  at  the  Resurrection  morning. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  former  Miraculous  Draught  the 
nets  had  been  broken.  These  nets,  on  that  previous  occasion, 
have  been  supposed  by  commentators,  from  the  days  of 
Augustine  downwards,  figuratively  to  represent  the  Church 
of  God  in  its  present  condition.  The  boats,  you  will  remem- 
ber, when  our  Lord  then  spake  to  Peter,  were  still  out  on  the 
deep,  they  were  "ready  to  sink" — the  weight  and  struggles 
of  the  fish  broke  the  meshes  of  the  net,  and  many  of  the 
enclosed  escaped  into  their  old  element.  Pit  type  of  the 
visible  Church  in  its  militant  state, — still  on  the  Stormy  sea, 
often  threatening  to  sink,  the  net  rent  with  unholy  and  un- 
happy divisions,  enclosing  indiscriminately  both  "bad  and 
good" — believers  and  professors — saints  and  hypocrites — 
those  having  the  form  without  the  power  of  godliness,  who 
are  arrested  for  a  season  only  to  return  once  more  to  their 
sinful  element. 

But  in  this  second  miraculous  enclosure  all  is  different — 
the' net  is  not  dragged  while  the  boats  are  still  on  the  sea; 
— the  fishermen  are  done  with  the  sea  of  life,  its  storms 
and  toils,  and  night-watchings  ;  they  have  planted  their  own 
footsteps  on  the  Heavenly  shore,  and  brought  their  net  along 
with  them. 

It  is  a  lovely  picture  of  THE  RESUEEECTION  MOEN,  when 
all  divisions  and  separations  among  Churches  and  Christians 


.352  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

shall  be  at  an  end  ; — when  every  fish  in  the  sea  of  immortal 
being,  "all  the  children  of  God  scattered  abroad/'  shall  be 
gathered  in.  Notwithstanding  the  vast  aggregate,  not  one 
shall  be  wanting.  Over  the  unbroken  net  the  glorified  .Re- 
deemer will  be  able  to  repeat  the  declaration  of  His  last 
intercessory  prayer — "Those  whom  thou  gavest  me  I  have 
kept,  and  none  of  them  is  LOST."  * 

IV.  Another  object  Christ  had  in  view,  in  this  morning 
feast  and  meeting,  was  to  demonstrate  His  own  real  and 
undoubted  Humanity. 

He  wished  to  convince  the  disciples  that  it  was  no  shadowy 
apparition  which,  at  that  morning  hour,  saluted  them  and 
then  vanished  away.  It  was  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS — the 
same  Adorable  Being  who  had  been  known  to  them  oft  before 
on  these  same  shores  in  "  the  breaking  of  bread." 

True  it  is,  indeed,  we  are  fully  warranted  in  believing  that 
His  bodily  form  had  undergone  some  mysterious  change  since 
the  Resurrection.  The  term  here  employed  is  significant — 
"He  shewed  HIMSELF."  "His  body,  after  the  Resurrection, 
was  only  visible  by  a  distinct  act  of  His  will."  f  It  is  pos- 
sible, too,  there  may  have  been  some  alteration  in  feature ; 
perhaps  the  weary,  toil-worn,  wasted  countenance  of  the  Man 
of  Sorrows, — those  furrowed  lines  of  deep  woe,  which  had 
imprinted  themselves  on  the  disciples'  latest  memories  in  the 
Garden,— these  may  have  been  exchanged  for  an  aspect  of  calm 
elevated  joy,  befitting  the  Risen  Conqueror.  But  one  thing 

*  For  a  full  statement  of  Augustine's  figurative  exposition,  see  Mr  Trench  in 
loco;  also  Olshausen,  vol.  iv.  p.  307,  note, 
t  Chrysostoin,  quoted  by  Trench. 


THE  FEAST  OX  THE  SHORE.  353 

they  could  not  mistake — His  heart  of  hearts  was  unchanged ! 
They  would  not  wound  Him  by  questioning  His  personal 
identity.  This  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  Evangelist's 
singular  statement — "  None  of  the  disciples  durst  ask  him, 
Who  art  thou?  KNOWING  HIM  TO  BE  THE  LORD."  They  saw, 
perhaps,  some  external  alteration  (they  must  have  done  so, 
eke  why  so  slow  to  recognise  Him  as  they  were) ;  but  they 
knew  Him  from  His  words,  His  looks,  His  loving  soul — they 
knew  Him  to  be  the  Lord. 

He  Himself,  by  the  most  significant  act,  confirms  the  joyful 
assurance.  He  reveals  Himself  as  an  unchanged  Saviour. 
Though  risen  and  exalted,  and  with  untold  honours  in  pro- 
spect. He  still  condescends  to  lowly  offices  of  love  and  mercy. 
He  meets  His  fishermen-apostles  in  the  chill  damps  of  a 
spring  morning  on  the  Lake-shore.  He  who,  before  His 
decease,  washed  their  feet,  and  "wiped  them  with  the  towel 
wherewith  he  was  girded/'  has  risen  from  the  grave  with  the 
same  loving  heart  which  He  ever  had.  He  meets  them  at 
the  frugal  meal ; — He  prepares  that  meal  with  His  own  hands ; 
— rile  partakes  with  them ; — He  calls  the  lowly  guests  His 
"  CHILDREN  ! "  He  would  proclaim,  as  His  name  and  memorial 
to  all  generations — "  Jesus  in  His  life  of  humiliation — Jesus 
in  His  state  of  exaltation — Jesus  risen — Jesus  glorified — 
Jesus  crucified — Jesus  crowned — is  the  same  yesterday,  and 
to-day,  and  for  ever  !  " 

V.  In  this  Feast,  Jesus  would  seem  to  speak,  by  anticipa- 
tion, of  a  nobler  and  better  festival  He  was  then  on  His  way 
to  prepare  for'  His  Church  in  glory. 

After  the  night  of  toil,  and  the  miraculous  draught,  came 

z 


354l  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

the  joyous  Banquet.  Glad  must  have  been  the  surprise  to 
these  weary  jaded  men,  after  their  discouraging  labours,  to 
find  their  Greatest  and  best  Friend  ready  to  welcome  them  on 
shore,  with  provided  pledges  of  temporal  and  spiritual  bless- 
ings. It  told  a  joyous  story  of  the  future ; — it  forewarned,  in  the 
first  instance,  of  a  possible  (nay  a  certain)  night  of  discourage- 
ment— baffled  labours — work  impeded — souls  uncaptured  and 
unsaved.  But  all  at  once,  in  the  hour  of  utter  hopelessness, 
ihe  Lord  gives  the  word — the  nets  are  lowered  and  filled — 
ihe  elect  are  gathered  in — the  great  gospel  net  with  its  priee- 
:  ;s  enclosures  is  brought  safe  to  the  Heavenly  shore  ! 

Better  than  all,  JESUS  is  THERE  ! — the  world's  long  night- 
,-^ason  is  over — the  eternal  morning  dawns,  and  the  first 
sight  which  catches  the  eye  of  the  triumphant  and  glorified 
Church  is — HER  GLORIFIED  LORD.  Faithful  to  His  own  pro- 
mise, He  has  come  again  to  receive  them  unto  Himself,  that 
'where  He  is  there  they  may  be  also.  They  who  have  faith- 
fully and  manfully  toiled  through  the  night  of  earthly  disaster 
and  discouragement,  shall  then  "  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and 
Isaac,  and  Jacob,"  in  His  Father's  kingdom.  • 

Let  us  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  this  glorious  meeting. — 
May  we  be  among  the  number  of  those  who  "love  His 
appearing!"  Some  of  you  may  be  out  now  amid  the  dark- 
ness of  the  earthly  sea  ; — the  lights  in  your  earthly  firmament 
may  be  dimmed  ; — one  star  after  another,  that  cheered  you 
over  the  waves,  may  be  mysteriously  extinguished.  But  soon 
shall  day-break  appear  ;  and,  standing  on  the  Heavenly  shores, 
in  His  own  peerless  ineffable  love,  Jesus  will  be  waiting  to 
greet  you  with  the  welcome — "  ENTER  THOU  INTO  THE  JOY 
OF  THY  LORD/' 


THE  FEAST  ON  THE  SHORE.  355 

And  finally,  we  must  regard  this  wholt  scene  as  an 
encouragement  to  devoted  work  in  the  Lord's  service. 

That  Feast  was  the  reward  of  labour.  Had  there  been  no 
night  of  toil,  no  mutual  invitations  to  "go  a-fishing,"  that 
Holy  Stranger  would  not  have  met  them  at  day-dawn  with 
so  gracious  a  repast  and  so  rich  a  blessing.  "  God  is  not 
unmindful  of  your  work  of  faith,  and  your  labour  of  love  ; " 
your  services  to  His  people  and  His  cause  shall  not  go  unre- 
coinpensed  by  Him  on  the  Great  Day,  when  "  He  will  give  to 
every  man  according  as  his  work  has  been/'  Each,  remember, 
has  His  net  of  influence  and  responsibility  ;  forbid  that  we 
should  confront  our  Lord,  at  last,  on  the  shores  of  eternity, 
with  the  woful  confession — "  My  time  is  done,  and  my  work 
is  not  done  ! " 

But  while  there  is  a  word  of  exhortation  and  encourage- 
ment to  all,  there  seems  to  be  a  special  one  for  Christ's  own 
Servants — Ministers  of  the  gospel — for  the  Apostles  of  Gen- 
nesaret,  and  the  true  "Successors  of  the  Apostles" — successors 
in  their  faith  and  zeal,  their  self-sacrifice  and  devotion,  who 
are  "  wise  to  win  souls  " — faithfully  letting  down  the  gospel 
net  for  the  draught. 

Their  work  is  concluded.     Their  Lord  himself  is  standing 

o 

waiting  to  receive  them  at  the  everlasting  Feast  of  His  own 
presence  and  love. — The  banquet  is  prepared — shall  He  issue 
the  invitation,  "  Come,  all  things  are  ready  ?  "  Nay,  some- 
thing still  is  wanting !  the  Almighty  Provider  has  yet  some 
element  of  bliss  to  add,  ere  the  feast  is  complete.  "BEING," 
says  He,  "  of the  fish  that  YE  have  caught!" 

Oh,  wondrous  thought !  the  faithful  Servants  of  Christ — 
the  "Fishers  of  men" — are  told  by  their  Lord,  on  that  joyous 


356  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

morn,  to  bring  with  them  the  immortal  souls  they  have 
captured  !  Assembled  at  the  heavenly  feast — with  the  Saviour 
before  them,  and  the  white-robed  band  of  immortals  saved 
through  their  instrumentality,  seated  by  His  side — they  shall 
be  enabled,  m  Paul's  burning  words  of  triumph,  to  exclaim, 
"  What  is  our  hope,  or  joy,  or  crown  of  rejoicing  ?  Are  not 
YE  IN  THE  PRESENCE  OF  THE  LORD  JESUS  ?  " 


XXI 

*. 


Hark,  iny  soul,  it  is  the  Lord  ! 
It  is  thy  Saviour,  hear  His  word  ; 
Jesus  speaks,  and  speaks  to  thee, 
Say,  poor  sinner,  "Lov'st  thou  me]" 

I  deliver'd  thee  when  bound, 

Soothed  thy  sorrows,  lieal'd  thy  wound, 

Loosed  thy  fetters,  set  thee  free, 

Say,  poor  sinner,  "  Lov'st  thou  me?" 
•*•*** 

Thou  shalt  see  my  glory  soon, 
When  the  work  of  grace  is  done, 
Partner  of  my  throne  to  be, 
Say,  poor  sinner,  "  Lov'st  thou  me  ]" 

"So,  when  they  had  dined,  Jesus  saith  to  Simon  Peter,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas, 
lovest  thou  me  more  than  these  ]  He  saith  unto  him,  Yea,  Lord  ;  tbou  knowest 
that  I  love  thee.  He  saith  unto  him,  Feed  my  lambs.  He  saith  to  him  again 
the  second  time,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  ]  He  saith  unto  him,  Yea, 
Lord  ;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee.  He  saith  unto  him,  Feed  rny  sheep.  He 
saith  unto  him  the  thitd  time,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  1  Peter  was 
grieved  because  he  said  unto  him  the  third  time,  Lovest  thou  me]  And  he  said 
unto  him,  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things ;  thou  knowest  that  I  iovethee.  Jesus 
gaith  unto  him,  Feed  my  sheep." — JOHN  xxi.  15-17. 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE. 

THE  Feast  we  considered  in  the  preceding  chapter  is  followed 
by  a  solemn  and  touching  interview  between  the  Lord  and 
one  of  the  Apostle-guests. 

We  can  almost  surmise,  before  the  name  is  mentioned, 
which  of  the  apostles  it  was.  They  had  all  been  guilty  of 
unkind  desertion,  when  their  sympathy  would  have  been 
greatly  valued  ;  but  one,  who  had  been  pre-eminent  in  pro- 
fessions of  ardour,  zeal,  and  devotedness,  had  proved,  in  the 
hour  of  trial,  the  first  to  fail.  Peter's  downfall  had,  indeed, 
been  humiliating.  We  could  not  have  wondered,  if,  covered 
with  confusion  at  the  thought  of  his  recent  treachery,  and 
refusing  ever  again  to  meet  the  glance  of  his  injured  Master's 
eye,  he  had  fled  back  in  terror  to  Galilee,  and  hid  himself, 
for  very  shame,  in  one  of  its  most  secluded  hamlets. 

But  what  will  not  the  consciousness  of  devoted  love  brave 
and  overcome  ?  Never  more  convinced  than  now  of  attach- 
ment to  that  Lord  he  had  deeply  wounded,  he  is  the  first  of 
all  the  seven  to  throw  himself  at  His  feet  and  implore  His 
forgiveness.  It  were  strange,  too,  had  it  been  otherwise.  A 
special  messa-ge  had  been  sent  him  by  Mary  Magdalene, 
which  might  well  have  brought  burning  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
one  of  sterner  mould  than  he.  "  Go,"  said  the  angel-guardian 
at  the  sepulchre,  "go  your  way,  tell  his  disciples,  AND  PETER/' 

We  may  imagine  the  interview  between  this  messenger  of 


360  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

reconciliation  and  the  trembling  Apostle  on  the  Resurrection 
morning.  When  Mary  rehearsed  to  him  the  angel's  words, 
would  he  not,  at  first,  listen  to  them  as  idle  tales. — as  a  message 
too  good  to  be  true?  '  What!'  may  he  not  have  said  to  her, 
'  have  you  not  mistaken  the  name  ?  John  or  Andrew,  James 
or  Matthew,  it  may  have  been,  but  I  am  the  last,  surely,  who 
would  have  been  singled  out  with  this  special  remembrance 
of  a  love  I  so  basely  requited/  *  Yet  it  was  all  true.  A  new 
testimony  that  God's  "  thoughts  are  not  as  man's  thoughts, 
and  God's  ways  are  not  as  man's  ways  \" 

"  AND  PETER  I "  How  these  two  little  words  would  linger 
like  undying  music  in  his  soul.  How  they  would  follow  him 
every  step  in  his  way  back  to  his  native  Galilee,  haunt  his 
sleeping  and  waking  hours,  and  prove  like  a  bright  gleam  in 
his  lonely  watches  on  the  midnight  sea  ! — And  now,  when  He 
who  dictated  them  is  standing  before  him  in  peerless  majesty 
in  the  morning  light,  can  we  wonder  that,  unable  to  repress 
the  outburst  of  his  grateful  feelings,  he  is  seen  plunging  into 
the  water,  cleaving  the  waves  with  his  brawny  arms  that  he 
might  be  the  first  to  reach  the  shore ! 

The  Feast,  we  found,  was  partaken  of  in  solemn  silence  ; — 
but  when  concluded,  the  Risen  Lord  is  the  first  to  speak,  and 
PETER'S  name  is  the  first  on  His  lips. 

We  have  already  explained  the  significant  symbolism  of 
the  miraculous  Draught,  and  of  the  Banquet  which  followed — 
how  the  Fishermen-apostles  were  addressed  figuratively 
through  the  trade  with  which  from  youth  they  had  been 
familiar — their  nets  being  taken  as  typical  of  the  Gospel 
Church,  and  the  fish  enclosed,  of  the  living  souls  they  were 

*  "  Water  from  the  Well-Spring,"  p.  65. 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE.  361 

to  capture.  Our  Lord  now,  however,  changes  the  metaphor. 
He  passes  to  one  with  which  these  Villagers  of  Bethsaida, 
amid  the  abounding  green  slopes  and  pasture-lands  which 
bordered  their  lake,  must  have  been  equally  familiar.  Per- 
haps where  they  now  were,  a  flock  of  sheep  might  have  been 
seen  browsing  on  one  of  the  adjoining  mountains :  they 
may,  at  the  moment,  have  attracted  the  eye  of  the  true  "  Shep- 
herd of  Israel/'  as  they  emerged  at  that  early  hour  from  their 
nightly  fold.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  old  figure  which  David 
loved  so  well,  when  he  sang  of  the  Shepherd-love  of  God,  is 
now  taken  by  the  GOOD  SHEPHERD  to  instruct  His  own 
Disciple.  The  figure  of  the  net  ,^;>oke  emphatically  of  the 
magnitude  of  the  ministerial  work — the  vast  and  glorious 
ingathering  of  the  family  of  God,  which  was  to  take  place 
previous  to  the  Heavenly  Feast.  Now  He  proceeds  to  unfold 
the  principle  or  motive  by  which  that  work  could  alone  be 
successfully  prosecuted,  and  the  method  of  attaining  the 
great  final  recompense. 

How  does  our  Lord  address  the  erring,  but  penitent, 
Apostle — "  SIMON,  SON  OF  JONAS." 

Simon  !  He  had  surnamed  him  after  his  noble  confession 
at  the  coasts  of  Csesarea  Philippi,  Peter,  "the  Rock."*  Bat 
the  Rock  that  should  have  manfully  braved  the  storm  had 
become  the  brittle  reed,  shattered  by  the  first  blast  of  temp- 
tation. His  conduct  had  belied  his  loud  protestations,  and 
forfeited  the  nobler  title.  His  Lord,  therefore,  goes  back  to 
the  simple  name  of  his  old  fisherman  life — that  which  He 
employed  on  another  occasion  when  the  same  disciple  was 
tottering  to  a  fall,  "  Simon  !  Simon  !  Satan  hath  desired  to 

*  Matt,  xvi,  18.. 


362  MEMOKIES  OF  GENNESAEET. 

have  thee,  that  he  might  sift  thee  as  wheat." *  Or  again, 
when  he  was  found  slumbering  at  his  post,  instead  of  being, 
as  he  ought,  the  wakeful  attendant  and  guardian  of  the  Great 
Sufferer — "  SIMON,  why  sleepest  THOU?"f 

And  while  there  is  a  thrice-repeated  name,  there  is  also  a 
thrice-repeated  question,  "  LOVEST  THOU  ME  ?" 

A  knowledge  of  the  original  brings  out  tender  touches  of 
deep  meaning  in  this  remarkable  passage,  which  are  undis- 
cerned  in  our  English  translation.  J  There  are  two  entirely 
different  words  in  the  original  Greek  which  are  rendered  in 
our  Bibles  by  the  word  "  lovest,"  (asyaTras  and  (/>;Xet?).  The 
first  time  the  question  is  asked  by  our  Lord,  it  is  the  word 
arfaira^  which  he  uses — a  word  considered  by  exegetical 
writers  to  denote  more  a  feeling  of  general  reverence  than 
any  intense  emotion  of  personal  attachment.  Peter,  in  his 
reply,  employs  a  different  term,  (0iXcC).  His  sensitive  heart 
would,  doubtless,  be  wounded  to  think  that  his  Lord  saw 
needful  to  employ  what  implied  a  less  ardent  affection. 
Therefore,  he  uses  not  the  word  which  his  Master  had  (that 
would  inadequately  express  his  real  feelings) ;  he  takes  the 
one  indicative  of  earnest  personal  affection,  and  replies,  "  Yea, 
Lord  ;  Thou  knowest  that  I  LOVE  Thee." 

Jesus  puts  the  question  a  second  time.  Still  He  refrains 
f  roivi  reciprocating  the  expressed  feeling  of  His  disciple ; — He 
does  not  yet  adopt  the  term  of  intenser  meaning — He  would 
seem  as  if  He  wished  still  to  caution,  still  to  humble  him  ; — to 
remind  him  of  past  ardent  professions,  and  their  signal 
failure; — and,  therefore,  once  more  He  adheres  to  the  less 

*  Luke  xxii.  31.  t  Mark  xiv.  37. 

J  See  Notes  in  Alford  aud  Trench  in  loc. 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE.  363 

fervent  word,  when  He  repeats  the  appeal,  "Lovest  thou  me  ?" 
Peter,  however,  will  not  abate  the  avowal  of  a  deeper  affec- 
tion. Conscious  of  the  reality  of  his  love,  he  clings  still  to 
his  former  expression  (<£;Xw),  "  Yea,  Lord  ;  thou  knowest 
that  I  LOVE  thee." 

And  now  his  Great  Master  can  resist  no  longer  the  ardent 
professions  of  His  loving  disciple.  In  putting  the  question 
for  the  third  time,  He  changes  his  former  word — He  adopts 
the  higher  standard,  and  interrogates  as  to  the  existence  of 
that  deep  personal  love,  of  which  the  apostle,  in  his  future 
life,  gave  such  signal  and  manifold  proof. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  Lord's  intention  in  the 
thrice-repeated  question.  He  wished,  by  reminding  of  the 
threefold  denial,  to  convey  to  His  servant  a  gentle  threefold 
rebuke.  He  could  not  have  done  so  more  impressively  ; 
while  in  the  addition  He  makes  to  the  first  query,  "  Lovest 
thou  me  more  than  these?"  there  is  an  equally  manifest 
reference  to  that  occasion  when,  in  a  self-sufficient  boastful 
comparison  of  his  own  moral  heroism  with  that  of  his  fellow- 
disciples,  Peter  had  said,  "  Though  all  should  be  offended 
because  of  thee  this  night,  yet  will  not  I."  * 

Simon  heard  the  first  two  questions  unmoved ;  but  when 
for  the  third  time  it  was  uttered — implying,  as  it  did,  a 
secret  mistrust  as  to  his  sincerity,  and  reminding  with  such 
marked  significance  of  his  threefold  s.in — the  questioned 
apostle  "was  grieved."  He  began  to  suspect  there  must  be 
some  good  reason  for  these  implied  doubts.  He  knew  that 
the  loving  heart  which  so  interrogated  would  not  unneces- 
sarily wound  him  ;  that  his  gracious  Lord  would  not  utter  a 

*  Markxiv.29.  . 


S':  4  MEMORIES  OP  GENNESAEET. 

needlessly  unkind  word  or  question.  Could  it  be  that  He, 
who  knew  all  things,  might  see  foreshadowed  some  future 
denial,  which  led  Him  to  receive  these  ardent  protestations 
with  such  significant  caution  ?  Could  it  be  that  his  heart^ 
which  had  so  deceived  him  in  the  past,  was  to  prove  a 
traitor-heart  again,  and  that  he  would  have  to  renew  his 
bitter  weeping  over  the  humiliations  of  a  still  sadder  fall  ? 

It  was,  however,  the  very  grief  his  Lord  desired.  He 
wished  to  humble  him,  to  annihilate  his  self-confidence  and 
self-sufficiency.  He  would  teach  him  that  the  very  love  he 
was  tempted  to  boast  of  was  not  an  innate,  self-generated 
principle,  but,  like  all  his  other  gifts,  divinely  imparted  and 
nurtured.  He  would  lead  him  in  future  to  be  ever  drawing 
supplies,  not  from  his  own  frames  and  feelings,  which  were 
fitful  as  the  changing  sand,  or  apt  to  fail  as  the  summer 
brook,  but  from  the  exhaustless  fountain-head,  God  Himself ! 

That  our  Lord's  reiterated  appeal  had  the  intended  effect 
we  cannot  doubt.  It  read  a  lesson  the  Apostle  never  for- 
got till  his  dying  hour.  We  may  regard  this  interview, 
indeed,  as  a  crisis  in  Peter's  history — the  date  of  a  new 
development  in  his  inner  life.  The  proud  self-sufficient 
Disciple  becomes  from  this  day  onwards  a  little  Child.  He 
comes  forth  from  the  furnace  into  which  his  Lord  had  cast 
him  purified  as  gold — humbled,  but  really  exalted.  We  see 
in  his  very  reply  to  the  present  threefold  question  the  germ 
of  this  new  grace  of  future  poverty  of  spirit.  His  answer 
in  former  times  would  probably  have  been,  "  I  know  that  I 
love  thee."  But  Josus  lias  taught  him  a  different  estimate 
of  himself.  He  appeals  from  his  own  truant,  untrustworthy 
heart,  to  that  of  the  great  Heart-searcher,  "Lord,  thou  knowest 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE.  365 

all  things  ;  thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee."*  His  Lord  had 
asked  him  as  to  the  relative  intensity  of  his  love,  whether  it 
was  now  according  to  his  former  boasting  estimate  of  it — 
"  more  than  these."  The  humbled  Apostle  takes  no  note  of 
the  comparison.  His  silence  is  its  own  interpreter.  There 
was  once  a  time  when  he  would  have  been  arrogant  enough 
to  say,  "  Yea,  Lord  ;  none  can  leve  thee  as  I  do. "  But  the 
memories  of  the  past,  and  the  rebukes  of  the  present,  have 
seated  him  in  the  dust.  He  can  only  make  the  confident 
appeal  to  Him  who  knew  the  heart,  as  to  the  sincerity  of 
present  resolutions,  and  the  depth  of  present  attachment. 
"  I  am  done/'  he  seems  to  say,  "judging  others — I  am  done 
judging  myself.  I  once  imagined  I  was  bold  enough  to  walk 
with  undaunted  step  the  raging  water ;  but  faith  failed,  and 
I  began  to  sink.  I  once  drew  my  sword,  with  what  I  thought 
a  hero-heart,  against  an  armed  band  ;  the  next  hour  I  was  a 
coward  trembling  with  guilty  fear.  I  once  said  I  was  ready 
to  go  to  prison  and  to  death,  and  that  though  all  should  deny 
and  grow  faithless,  I  should  never  be.  one  of  them.  Yet,  I 
was  the  first  to  be  ashamed  of  that  Lord  to  whom  I  had 
sworn  unswerving  allegiance,  and  my  sin  was  blackened  with 
aggravations  I  shudder  to  recall.  Now,  I  dare  boast  no  more. 
I  can  say  nothing  as  to  the  dependence  to  be  placed  on  my 
devotedness.  Fitful  in  the  past,  it  may  be  fitful  still,  but  at 
present,  Lord,  it  is  with  no  sembled  lips  that  I  declare,  with 
Thy  scrutinising  glance  upon  me,  '  THOU  knowest  that  I 
LOVE  thee.' " 

Jesus  forthwith  proceeds  to  reinstate  him  in  the  Apostolic 
office,  which,  by  his  unworthy  conduct,  he  had  for  the  time 

*  See  Maurice  on  St  John. 


MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

forfeited.  Anew  he  affixes  the  seal  on  his  previous  high 
commission,  "  Feed  my  lambs" — "  Feed  my  sheep."* 

His  Lord  had  listened  to  his  protestations  of  love.  He 
accepts  them;  and  in  token  of  acceptance  He  tells  His  dis- 
ciple to  go  and  act  a  Shepherd's  part  to  his  purchased  flock. 
His  words  are  equivalent  to  saying,  "  Simon,  if  you  indeed 
love  me,  make  proof  of  the  reality  of  your  love,  not  by  your 
words  but  by  your  acts.  Prove  by  newly  baptized  zeal  and 
unremitting  labour  that  I  have  not  unworthily  confided  in 
your  resolute  assertions/' 

And  in  this,  Jesus  would  proclaim  to  His  Church  in  every 
future  age,  that  the  grand  qualification  for  the  feeding  of  the 
Sheep  is  the  love  of  the  Great  Shepherd  in  the  heart  of  the 
under  Shepherds.  Nothing  can  be  done  acceptably  but  what 
proceeds  from  this  paramount  Christian  motive — LOVE  TO 
CHRIST.  Peter  could  not  fail,  surely,  at  this  moment 
peculiarly  to  feel  its  constraining  influence.  He  was  standing 
within  the  shadow  of  the  Cross  and  the  Tomb — that  blended 

*  There  is  a  variety,  siniilar.to  what  we  have  noted  above,  in  the  words  ren- 
dered, "  Feed  "  and  "  Sheep,"  in  our  English  translation.  In  either  case,  in 
the  original  there  are  two  distinct  words,  BdV*C«  and  Hoipawf,  TrpojSara  ana 
7rpo/3uTta.  We  quote  Mr  Alford's  note  on  the  subject  :— 

"We  can  hardly,  with  any  deep  insight  in  to  the  text,  hold  jSoV/ceii'and.Troi/iati'eii' 
to  be  synonymous,  or  apvia  7rpo/3ara  and  7rpo/3ana.  The  sayings  of  the  Lord 
have  not  surely  been  so  carelessly  reported  as  this  would  assume.  Everything 
here  speaks  for  a  gra<lati<>n  of  meaning.  The  variety  of  reading  certainly  makes 
it  difficult- t  >  point  out  exactly  the  steps  of  that  gradation,  and  unnecessary  to 
follow  tlie  various  interpreters  in  their  assignment  of  them,  but  that  there  is 
such  may  be  seen  from  Lsa.  xl.  11;  1  John  ii.  12,  13.  Perhaps  the  feeding  of 
the  lambs  was  the  furnishing  the  apostolic  testimony  of  the  resurrection  and 
facts  of  the  Lord's  life  on  earth  to  the  first  converts;  the  shepherding  or  ruling 
the  sheep,  the  subsequent  government  of  the  Church,  as  shewn  forth  in  the  early 
part  of  the  Acts ;  the  feeding  of  the  7rpo/3urta,  the  choicest,  the  loved  of  the  flock, 
the  furnishing  the  now  maturer  Church  of  Christ  with  the  wholesome  food  of 
the  doctrine  contained  in  Us  Epistles." 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE.  367 

memory  of  love  and  anguish  was  fresh  on  his  scnl; — the  hand 
that  had  just  broken  the  bread  still  bore  upon  it  the  print 
of  the  nails.  Formerly  he  loved  his  Lord  as  a  Heavenly 
Friend — now  he  loves  Him  as  a  gracious  Saviour.  Eor- 
inerly  he  could  say  with  Paul,  "  Who  loved  me" — now  he  can 
add,  "  Who  gave  HIMSELF  for  me  !" 

It  is  the  same  paramount  gospel  claim  which  is,  or  ought 
to  be,  all-powerful,  as  an  incentive  for  duty  and  action  with 
ourselves.  We  have  all  the  old  claims  of  God's  love  remain- 
ing in  undiminished  and  unaltered  power  : — God  our  Creator  ; 
God  our  Preserver ;  God  our  Bountiful  Benefactor ;  but  to 
these  is  superadded  the  culminating  claim  of  all — God  our 
REDEEMER  I  If  you  wish  to  learn  the  secret  of  obedience — • 
of  active  service  or  passive  suffering — come  and  seat  your- 
selves at  Calvary's  Cross — listen  to  the  thrilling  words — the 
pathetic  appeal  coming  from  these  dying  lips:  "All  this  I 
have  done  for  THEE  ; — What  docst  thou  for  ME  ?"  Or,  as  this 
has  been  translated  by  one  who  knew  well  the*  sovereign 
power  of  that  love — "  Ye  are  not  your  own,  ye  are  bought 
with  a  price ;  therefore  glorify  God  in  your  bodies  and 
in  your  spirits,  which  are  his."  Depend  upon  it,  nothing 
will  nerve  the  soul  for  high,  and  holy,  and  pure,  and  self- 
sacrificing  deeds,  but  this  great  principle — "  The  love  of 
Christ  constraineth  me !"  Sinai,  with  its  thunders,  says, 
"  Thou  SHALT  love  God."  But  Calvary  says,  "  We  love 
him,  because  he  first  loved  us  !" 

How  stands  our  love  to  that  Great  and  Gracious  Redeemer? 
Were  He  to  prompt  the  question  at  this  hour,  "  Lovest  thou 
me?" — could  we  reply  in  honest  earnestness,  "  Yea,  Lord, 
thou  knowest  all  things  ;  thou  knowest  thaj.  I  love  thee." 


368  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

Perhaps  some  who  read  these  pages  may  be  Backsliders. 
Like  Peter,  you  may  have  forsaken  your  first  love.  You  may 
have  become  as  bruised  reeds  and  smoking  flax.  You  may 
think  that  return  i.  hopeless  to  that  Saviour,  whose  grace 
you  have  despised,  and  whose  loving  heart  you  have  so 
grievously  woundec".  Look  for  your  encouragement  to 
Peter's  gracious  reception  by  his  Lord  on  these  shores  of 
Tiberias.  Had  he  obeyed,  perhaps,  his  own  first  impulses,  he 
would  have  fled  affrighted  from  that  Presence,  and  eluded  a 
withering  glance  he  felt  he  dared  not  brook.  Ah  I  if  ever 
there  was  one  who  might  have  been  spurned  away,  it  was 
that  poor  despicable  waverer  in  Pilate's  judgment  hall,  who, 
with  oaths  and  curses,  denied  the  Lord  that  bought  him. 
But  Jesus  sent  a  special  message  of  love  to  him,  as  he  does 
to  us.  And  what  was  the  Penitent's  resolve?  It  was  to  cast 
himself  imploringly  at  his  Master's  feet,  and  seek  that  loving 
mercy  he  had  never  yet  sought  in  vain  I  As  the  little  child 
cannot  close  his  eyes  in  sleep,  until  he  has  received  his 
father's  forgiveness ;  so  this  erring  Apostle  feels  that  joy 
must  be  a  stranger  in  his  heart,  until  he  receive  from  his 
Lord's  own  lips  the  cheering  assurance  that  the  past  is  all 
pardoned — that  his  crimson  and  scarlet  sins  are  buried  in 
the  depths  of  forgetfulness  ! 

And  Jesus  not  only  receives  him,  but  even  in  rebuking 
him,  what  tenderness,  what  unutterable  gentleness  is  mingled 
with  that  rebuke  !  We  quite  expect,  after  so  black  a  cata- 
logue of  guilt,  a  reprimand  of  corresponding  severity.  When 
the  words  are  first  uttered — "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas" — we 
expect  to  hear  the  enumeration  of  his  bygone  sins — his  arro- 
gance— his  pi  esumption — the  oaths  and  curses  and  cowardly 


THE  TESTIMONY  OF  LOVE.  369 

desertion.  But  we  see  "  the  end  of  the  Lord,  that  the  Lord 
is  very  pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy."  He  knew  well  that 
that  wounded  spirit  did  not  require  to  be  needlessly  lace- 
rated. There  is  no  direct  reference,  therefore,  to  the  past — 
no  catalogue  of  former  errors  dragged  afresh  to  the  light  of 
day.  Like  the  Shepherd  in  the  parable  of  the  lost  wanderer, 
in  silent  love  "he  lays  him  on  his  shoulders  rejoicing,"  say- 
ing, "Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  have  found  the  sheep  which  was 
lost!" 

Eeader !  are  you  overwhelmed  at  the  thought  of  some 
past  sins — some  deep  dark  blots  disturbing  your  peace,  and 
darkening  your  spiritual  prospects — deterring  you  from  the 
mercy-seat — leading  you  to  restrain  prayer  before  God? 
Delay  no  longer  fleeing  to  that  same  unchanging  Lord  of 
love.  He  is  waiting  now  to  be  as  gracious  as  He  was  to  the 
penitent  Apostle  at  GENNESAEET.  He  is  as  willing  now  as 
then  to  say,  "  I  will  be  merciful  to  your  unrighteousness ; 
your  sins  and  your  iniquities  will  I  remember  no  more/' 

And  learn  once  more  from  this  subject,  that  it  is  by  Grace 
you  stand. 

Why  was  Peter  not  a  Judas  ?  Why  do  we  not  find  him, 
like  his  brother  apostle,  a  vessel  (once  freighted  with  noble 
resolves)  lying  a  wreck  on  the  desert  shore  ?  It  was  grace 
vrhich  made  all  the  difference.  Grace  called  him — grace  re- 
strained him — grace  rescued  him.  He  was  a  comment  on  the 
words,  "kept  by  the  power  of  God."  Jesus  Himself  tells, 
that  at  one  time  there  was  verily  but  a  step  between  Peter 
and  death.  There  was  but  one  link  that  prevented  the  chain 
of  his  spiritual  life  from  snapping,  but  it  was  the  golden 

2  A 


370  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

link  of  His  own  ever-living  intercession  ; — "  Satan  hath  de- 
sired to  have  thee,  *  BUT  I  have  prayed  for  thee  that 
tliy  faith  fail  not  !" 

It  is  the  same  with  us.  We  can  boast  of  no  grace  we 
have.  We  are  dependent  every  hour  on  the  upholding  arm 
of  a  gracious  Saviour.  That  arm  removed,  and  we  sink  like 
lead  in  the  waters.  Distrust  yourselves.  Feel  that  your  own 
strength  is  utter  weakness.  Let  your  cry  be,  "  More  grace  ! 
more  grace  ! " — ever  travelling  between  your  own  emptiness 
and  Christ's  infinite  fulness. 

And  with  His  grace  sustaining  you,  seek  to  have  His  love 
constraining  you.  Seek  to  have  more  and  more  a  realising 
sense  of  the  paramount  claims  of  that  amazing  mercy  !  Seat 
yourselves  often  under  Calvary,  and  gaze  on  Him  who  spared 
not  His  own  life's  blood,  that  He  might  rescue  you  from  the 
waves  of  destruction,  and  spread  for  you  a  Feast  on  the 
Heavenly  shore.  Oh !  with  such  a  miracle  of  stupendous 
condescension  in  view,  can  we  wonder  that  He  should  ask, 
regarding  all  else  that  may  be  competing  with  His  para- 
mount claims — money — wealth — friends — home — children 
— "  Lovest  thou  me  MORE  THAN  THESE  ?"  Give  Him  hence- 
forth the  throne  of  your  best  affections,  and  be  able  to  say  in 
the  spirit  of  the  old  martyr,  "  If  I  had  a  thousand  hearts, 
I  could  love  Him  with  them  all.  If  I  had  a  thousand  lives, 
I  would  lay  them  down  for  His  sake  1" 


XXII. 

JfarafoelL 


Lord !  no  guardian  to  defend  me 

In  the  world  I  have  like  Thee  ; 
None  so  willing  to  befriend  me : 

Thou  art  all  in  all  to  me ! 

What  is  life  ?  a  scene  of  troubles 

Following  swiftly  one  by  one ; 
Phantom  visions — airy  bubbles, 

Which  appear,  and  then  are  gone. 

What  at  best  the  world's  vain  fashion  1 

Quickly  it  must  pass  away  ; 
Vexing  care  and  whirlwind  passion, 

Surging  like  the  angry  spray. 

One  brief  moment,  Lord,  may  sever 

All  that  earth  can  friendship  call; 
But  Thy  friendship  is  for  ever — 

It  outlives  the  wreck  of  all. 

"  Then  the  eleven  disciples  went  away  into  GALILEE,  into  a  mountain  where 
Jesus  had  appointed  them.  And  when  they  saw  him,  they  worshipped  him : 
but  some  doubted.  And  Jesus  came  and  spake  unto  them,  saying,  All  power 
is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  Go  ye  therefore,  and  teach  all  nations, 
baptizing  them  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  I  have  commanded 
you  :  and,  lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world." — MATT. 
xxviii.  Ifr  20 ;  1  COB.  xv.  6. 


THE  FAKEWELL. 

WE  have  now  reached  the  last  of  GENNESARET'S  Sacreu. 
Memories.  The  time  has  come  when  the  Saviour  is  to  take  a 
final  farewell  of  its  shores. 

In  the  two  previous  chapters,  we  found  Him  by  the  Lake 
side,  holding,  in  a  quiet  morning  hour,  a  private  and  con- 
fidential meeting  with  His  Apostles.  A  more  numerous 
gathering  is  now  appointed,  that  He  may  publicly  bid  adieu 
to  the  many  devoted  disciples  scattered  throughout  Galilee, 
among  whom  He  had  longest  lived  and  laboured. 

The  place  .of  assemblage  was  "a  mountain/'  most  probably 
the  Mount  of  Beatitudes — the  spot  hallowed  by  former  burn- 
ing words  of  warning  and  mercy,  and  which  more  than  any 
other  overlooked  the  scenes  of  His  ministry  and  miracle. 
We  have  every  reason,  moreover,  to  believe  that  this  was  the 
same  memorable  Convocation  to  which  St  Paul  refers  *  when 
he  speaks  of  Christ  having  been  "  seen  by  five  hundred 
brethren  at  once" — the  greater  part  of  whom  were  still  alive 
when  he  wrote,  though  a  few  had  "  fallen  asleep."  f> 

*  1  Cor.  xv.  6. 

f  A  strong  presumptive  proof  that  the  meeting  of  these  five  hundred  brethren 
must  have  taken  place  on  this  mountain  in  Galilee,  is  the  express  mention 
made  in  Acts  i.  15,  that  after  the  ascension,  the  total  number  of  the  dis- 
ciples in  Judea  was  one  hundred  and  twenty.  That  more  than  the  eleven  dis- 
ciples were  present  is  also  evident  from  the  incredulity  referred  to  by  St  Matthew, 
"And  some  doubted."  "  This,"  as  Dr  Robinson  well  observes,  "  could  hardly 
be  supposed  to  be  true  of  any  of  the  eleven,  after  what  had  already  happened  1 1 


374  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

As  Jesus  afterwards,  on  the  summit  of  OLIVET,  took  fare- 
well of  the  scenes  of  His  ministry  in  Judea,  so  now,  in  pre- 
sence of  a  larger  throng,  he  closes  His  ministry  in  GALILEE, 
and  upon  the  shores  of  its  honoured  Sea. 

The  Eoman  Hero  of  old,  at  the  close  of  his  victorious 
campaign,  was  wont  to  address  his  soldiers  before  being 
conducted  to  the  Capitol  to  be  crowned.  The  Prince  of  the 
Kings  of  the  Earth,  ere  ascending  the  Hill  of  God,  to  receive 
the  reward  of  His  triumphs,  assembles  together  His  faithful 
followers,  to  convey  to  them  words  of  encouragement  and 
directions  for  duty,  when  His  own  visible  presence  would  be 
withdrawn.  As  the  Great  High  Priest  of  His  Church,  He 
had  recently  entered  within  the  veil  with  the  offering  of  His 
own  blood.  Now,  the  curtain  being  rent,  He,  the  true  Aaron, 
comes  forth  to  pour  His  benediction  on  the  waiting  people  ; 
or,  like  a  fond  father,  who,  ere  he  sets  forth  to  a  distant 
clime,  gathers  his  family  around  him,  to  breathe  upon  them 
farewell  accents  of  comfort  and  peace. 

The  Evangelists  give  us  no  particulars  regarding  the  inte- 
resting transaction  here  referred  to.  It  is  but  the  dim  out- 
line of  a*  picture  which  we  long  to  have  filled  in.  May  we 
not,  however,  so  far  venture  to  realise  it  ?  With  the  local 
Scene  we  are  already  familiar.  Few  hamlets  would  there  be 
on  the  Lake  that  would  not  probably  send  a  believing  delegate 
to  the  solemn  assembly.  Conspicuous  among  the  band  of  five 
hundred,  would  there  not  be  the  Centurion  of  Capernaum, 
with  his  restored  servant — The  Leper,  now  purged  of  his 

them  in  Jerusalem  and  Galilee,  and  after  having  been  appointed  to  meet  their 
risen  Lord  at  this  very  time  and  place." — Harmony  of  the  Gospels,  p.  192. 


THE  FAREWELL.  375 

uncleanness,  no  longer  an  alien  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel,  but  a  fellow-citizen  with  the  saints  and  of  the  house- 
hold of  God — The  Widow  of  Nam,  with  the  tear  of  grati- 
tude in  her  eye,  as  she  first  gazed  on  a  restored  son  at 
her  side,  and  then  upon  the  face  of  the  Great  Eestorer — 
The  Paralytic,  standing  upright,  with  vigorous  limb  and 
gleaming  eye — The  Maniac  of  Gadara,  now  the  calm  and 
loving  believer — Jairus,  too,  with  the  living  trophy  of 
redeeming  power  leaning  gently  on  his  arm — Mary  of 
Magdala,  Joanna,  and  Susanna,  no  longer  ashamed  to 
mingle  in  the  same  group  with  another  (once  outcast) 
sister,  who  had  testified,  at  their  common  Master's  feet, 
by  tears  of  anguish,  the  depth  and  intensity  of  her  sorrow 
and  love  ? 

If  we  could  have  wisljed  an  ampler  description  of  the 
Scene  and  its  Convocation,  still  more  could  we  have  desired 
that  the  memorable  farewell  address  of  the  Great  Redeemer 
had  been  fully  given  to  us.  It  has,  however,  for  wise 
reasons  been  withheld.  All  that  is  recorded  is  the  briefest 
of  outlines ;  but  that  outline  is,  nevertheless,  precious  and 
significant.  It  embraces  three  statements,  to  each  of 
which  we  would  now  invite  attention. 

Conscious  that  for  the  last  time  they  were  standing  in  the 
presence  of  their  Divine  Master,  the  multitude  would  doubt- 
less listen  in  breathless  silence  as  they  heard  the  farewell 
tones  of  the  Voice  they  loved  so  well.  Let  it  be  with  some- 
thing of  the  same  feelings  that,  in  this  closing  chapter,  we 
gather  in  thought  around  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  hear  the 
parting  word  He  has  to  say  unto  our  souls  1 


376  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

The  three  recorded  assertions  of  our  Lord  consist  of — . 

I.  A  PARTING  ASSURANCE. 
II.  A  PARTING  COMMISSION. 
III.  A  PARTING  PROMISE. 

I  There  is  A  PARTING  ASSURANCE—  "All power  is  given 
unto  me  in  heaven  and  in  earth." 

What  more  precious  farewell  truth,  what  more  blessed 
Keepsake,  could  the  Saviour  have  confided  to  these  waiting 
hundreds,  than  this — that  to  Him  has  been  committed  the 
Sceptre  of  universal  Empire  !  Many  there  had  witnessed 
His  poverty,  His  humiliation,  His  cruel  buffetings,  His  bitter 
death.  But  now  these  were  all  past.  His  head  was  about 
to  be  "  crowned  with  many  crowns^'  As  King  and  Head  of 
His  Church,  "All  things  had  been  delivered  to  him  of  his 
Father."  *  He  knew  that  "  the  Father  had  given  all  things 
into  his  hands." '-f-  He  would  impart  the  comfort  of  this 
ennobling  truth  to  the  orphaned  Church  He  was  to  leave 
behind  Him  ; — when  the  chariots  of  God  had  borne  Him 
away  from  their  sight,  they  could  still  think  of  the  CHRIST  OF 
GALILEE  as  boundless  in  His  resources  ;  that  He  who  so  often 
had  spoken  to  them  "in  righteousness/'  was  still  "mighty  to 
save" — "The  Prince  who  had  power  with  God/'  and  must  "pre- 
vail"— "  the  Wonderful,  the  Counsellor,  the  MIGHTY  GOD/' 

This  "  prophecy "  was  of  no  "  private  interpretation/' 
intended  merely  for  the  ears  of  this  mountain  auditory, 
These  five  hundred  formed  the  representatives  of  the  Church 
of  Christ  in  every  age  ; — whatever  truths  were  soothing 

*  Matt.  ri.  27.  t  John  xiii.  3. 


THE  FAREWELL.  377 

and  consolatory  to  them,  may  be  equally  so  to  us.  And  who 
will  not  exult  in  the  glorious  assurance,  that  to  these  very 
hands,  that  were  jpierced  on  Calvary  s  Cross,  has  been  con- 
fided the  Sovereignty  of  the  Universe  ? 

John,  sixty  years  later,  beheld  in  striking  vision,  in  Pat- 
nios,  a  book  or  roll  "  sealed  with  seven  seals."  Tears  came 
to  the  aged  eyes  of  the  Evangelist,  because  no  one  in  heaven 
or  in  earth  was  found  "worthy  to  take  the  book"  and 
unloose  its  mysteries.  All  at  once,  one  of  the  Redeemed 
from  the  Dearth  conveys  to  him  the  joyous  assurance,  that 
he  need  no  longer  "weep"  for  the  "Lion  of  the  tribe  of 
Judah  had  prevailed  to  open  the  book"  and  unloose  its 
mystic  seals.  What  was  this,  but  the  announcement  in 
significant  figure  of  the  Saviour's  own  last  utterance,  that 
He  has  had  committed  to  His  keeping  the  roll  of  Providence  ; 
— that  roll  in  which  is  inscribed  not  only  the  fate  of  king- 
doms, the  destinies  of  nations — but  all  that  concerns  the 
humblest  and  lowliest  member  of  His  Church  on  earth ; — 
with  Him  rests  the  unfolding  of  the  roll — the  breaking  of 
the  seals — the  pouring  out  of  the  vials — the  bursting  of  the 
thunders.  Need  we  wonder  that  in  taking  "  the  book  "  into 
his  hands,  the  ransomed  myriads  in  the  Apocalyptic  vision 
should  be  seen  falling  down  at  the  feet  of  THE  LAMB,  with 
their  harps  and  golden  vials  full  of  odours ;  and,  exulting  in 
the  thought  that  the  Great  Ruler  of  all  was  a  Brother  of  the 
human  race,  they  should  attune  their  lips  to  the  lofty  ascrip- 
tion, "Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the 
seals  thereof,  FOE  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us 
to  God  by  Thy  blood,  out  of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and 
people,  and  nation  1 " 


378  MFMOKIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

Yes,  I  repeat,  who  will  not  exult  in  the  thought,  that  this 
vast  world  of  ours  is  committed  to  the  rule  of  JESUS — that  it 
was  "  created  by  Him,"  that  it  was  created  "for  Him,"  that 
"  by  him  all  things  consist?"  I  look  up  to  the  spangled  dome 
of  Heaven  with  its  myriad  constellations.  I  am  told  these 
lamps,  hung  in  the  sky,  are  burning  incense-fires  to  His 
glory — that  they  march  at  His  word,  and  their  eternal 
music  is  an  anthem  to  His  praise.  I  look  to  the  landscape 
beneath; — all  that  vast  furniture  in  the  Palace  of  Nature 
is  His  providing.  It  is  He  who  covers  it  in  its  robe  of 
light,  who  wreathes  the  brow  of  Spring  in  living  green, 
and  decks  the  valleys  in  Summer  glory.  Not  a  breeze 
murmurs  through  the  forest,  nor  a  dew-drop  sparkles  on 
its  leaves,  the  sun  shoots  not  one  golden  arrow  through  its 
glades,  but  by  His  permission.  It  is  He  who  pencils  the 
flower,  and  intones  the  thunder,  and  gives  voice  to  the  tem- 
pest, and  wings  to  the  lightning. 

But  these  manifestations  of  His  power  in  nature  are  sub- 
ordinate to  a  nobler  sovereignty  with,  which  He  is  invested 
in  the  moral  and  spiritual  world.  There,  too,  nothing  can 
happen  but  by  His  direction,  nothing  can  befal  us  but  what 
is  the  dictate  and  result  of  His  loving  wisdom.  Often,  indeed, 
that  wisdom  and  love  are  veiled  behind  gigantic  clouds  of 
permitted  evil.  "  Verily,  thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  thyself" 
—  "  Thy  judgments  are  a  great  deep  " — is  often  all  the  ex- 
planation which  our  finite  minds  can  offer.  But  when  we 
remember  the  pledge,  in  His  own  life's  blood,  which  He  lias 
Himself  given  of  His  love  to  His  people,  dare  we  impugn 
the  rectitude  of  His  dealings,  or  arraign  the  wisdom  of  His 
ways  ?  Nay; — This  Saviour-God  reigneth,  "  let  the  earth  be 


THE  FAREWELL.  379 

glad/'  From  the  heart  stripped  of  its  loved  gourd  by  the  gentle 
hand  of  death,  to  the  more  terrible  cry  of  perishing  thousands 
in  a  revolted  empire  or  beleaguered  capital — what  truth  more 
sublime,  what  syllables  fall  with  more  soothing  music  on  the 
soul  than  these — "  HE  "  (the  Saviour  who  died  for  me,  who 
now  lives  for  me)  "  doeth  according  to  his  will  in  the  armies 
of  heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  ! " 

Conscious  that  the  Lord  hath  set  Him  as  "  King  on  His 
holy  hill  of  Zion,"  we  may  well  take  up  that  triumphant 
Psalm,  which  to  hundreds  of  bleeding  hearts  will  ever  have  a 
memorable  significance, — that  Psalm  which  speaks  pre-emi- 
nently of  the  ascension  glories  of  a  reigning  Redeemer.  In 
one  of  the  world's  very  darkest  hours,  when  the  last  vestige 
of  the  footsteps  of  a  God  of  Love  seemed  obliterated — 
when,  man-forsaken  and  God-forsaken,  the  hapless  innocents 
were  about  to  go  down  into  darkness,  tempted  to  cry  out 
in  frantic  unbelief,  "  Is  there  a  God  on  the  earth  ? "  the 
glorious  truth  of  the  text  was  made  to  fringe  the  edges 
of  the  looming  cloud — a  blood-stained  leaf  floating  on  the 
crimson  deluge  pointed  to  the  all-power  of  Jesus  as  the  alone 
sheet-anchor  in  the  maddening  storm.*  "  The  Lord  has  gone 
up  with  a  shout,  the  Lord  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  Sing 
praises  to  our  God,  sing  praises :  sing  praises  unto  our  King, 
sing  praises.  God  reigneth  over  the  heathen  ;  God  sitteth  on 

*  Of  that  frightful  Aceldama — the  massacre  at  Cawnpore— an  officer  in 
General  Havelock's  noble  band  thus  writes  : — "  I  picked  up  a  mutilated 
Prayer  Book.  It  had  lost  the  cover.  It  appeared  to  me  to  have  been  opened  at 
p.  36  in  the  Litany,  \vhere  I  have  little  doubt  but  these  poor  creatures  sought 
and  found  consolation  in  those  beautiful  supplications.  It  is  here  sprinkled 
with  blood.  The  book  has  lost  some  pag^s  at  the  end,  and  terminates  with  the 
47th  Psalm,  in  which  David  thanks  the  Almighty  for  his  signal  victories  oter 
his  enemies." 


380  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

the  throne  of  his  holiness.     The  shields  of  the  earth  belong 
unto  our -God  :  he  is  greatly  exalted."  * 

II.  We  have  here  A  PARTING  COMMISSION. 

"  Go  ye  therefore  and  teach  all  nations,  baptizing  them  in 
the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  I  have 
commanded  you." 

Appropriate  seemed  the  spot  where  Jesus  now  stood  to 
issue  this  great  commission.  It  was  on  the  frontier  land  of 
Judea — "  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles  " — almost  within  sight  of 
Heathendom. 

At  an  earlier  period  of  His  public  ministry  the  command 
had  been  very  different — "  Go  NOT  into  the  way  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, and  into  any  city  of  the  Samaritans  enter  ye  not ;  but 
go  rather  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel."  •(•  A  new 
dispensation,  however,  with  the  rending  of  the  old  temple  veil, 
had  now  dawned  on  the  world  ; — the  brotherhood  of  the 
human  family  was  boldly  announced  ;  the  leaves  of  the  tree  of 
life  were  no  longer  to  be  for  the  healing  of  Judea,  but  for  "  the 
healing  of  the  nations." 

The  announcement  of  Christ's  investiture  with  "all  power" 
is  beautifully  connected  with  this  missionary  injunction — 
"  All  power"  says  He,  "  is  given  to  me,"  THEREFORE,  ('  go  ye 
and  teach  all  nations" — as  if  the  first  use  He  would  make 
of  this  Mediatorial  rule  and  sovereignty  was  to  break  down 
the  barriers  that  had  so  long  separated  race  from  race,  and 
make  the  waters  of  salvation  roll  round  the  globe,  and,  like 
its  own  oceans,  touch  every  shore.  Set  as  King  in  the  citadel 

•  Psalm  xlvii.  5,  6,  8,  9.  t  Matt.  x.  5,  6. 


THE  FAREWELL.  381 

of  Zion,  He  had  examined  its  armoury,  inspected  its  treasures, 
and  the  first  use  He  makes  of  these  is  to  panoply  His  Disciples, 
and  send  them  forth  as  the  conquerors  of  the  world. 

What  a  startling  commission !  what  a  gigantic  undertaking! 
Had  the  wise  of  this  world  been  of  the  listening  throng  on 
that  Galilee  mountain,  how  would  they  have  laughed  it  to 
scorn!  What  !  that  handful  of  Galilean  boors  and  fishermen 
to  go  forth  on  the  conquest  of  the  human  race — men  devoid 
of  learning,  polish,  worldly  tact,  worldly  wisdom,  to  proclaim 
a  lowly  Jew,  who  lived  a  lowly  life  and  died  an  ignominious 
death,  Lord  of  all !  To  undertake,  moreover,  to  wage  war 
with  lust,  and  passion,  and  self  in  every  shape — to  proclaim 
that  there  was  sin  against  high  Heaven,  not  in  the  word  and 
deed  only,  but  in  the  secret  thought  of  revenge,  the  rising 
passion,  the  unclean  look  ; — to  hurl  the  venerated  systems  of 
ages  from  their  thrones — to  dethrone  JUPITER  from  the 
Capitol,  MINERVA  from  the  Acropolis,  and  erect  in  their 
place  the  pure,  self-denying  doctrines  of  the  Cross,  and  the 
worship  of  a  God  Invisible  !  It  seemed  the  ravings  of  childish 
enthusiasm,  the  boldness  of  ignorant  and  infatuated  dreamers. 
And  what  were  to  be  their  weapons  ?  The  battle  of  the 
world's  warriors  is  "  with  confused  noise  and  garments  rolled 
in  blood/'  The  secret  of  Mohammedan  triumph  was  the  power 
of  the  sword.  But  the  commission  is  not  " go  and  subdue'' 
"go  and  conquer" — but  go  and  teach,  go  "make  disciples."* 
It  was  to  be  a  moral  victory  over  Mind,  Conscience,  Will,  a 
debased  Nature,  grovelling  Passions.  It  was  by  a  few  scrolls 
written  by  Hebrew  prophets,  and.  Jewish  fishermen  and 
publicans,  that  the  world  was  to  be  "turned  upside  down/' 


382  MEMOEIES  OF  GENNESAKET. 

The  unlettered  listeners,  with  nothing  but  the  simple  sling 
of  faith  and  the  smooth  pebbles  from  the  brook  of  eternal 
Truth,  were  to  go  forth  on  their  apparently  hopeless  under- 
taking ! 

If  those  localities  are  sacred  in  the  world  which  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  first  plannings  and  conception  of  a  great 
enterprise,  where  originated  some  grand  thought  or  purpose 
which  has  had  a  powerful  influence  for  good  on  mankind ; 
— if  that  spot  is  memorable  where  Columbus  first  dreamed 
of  his  unknown  western  world — or  where  Newton  sat  under 
his  garden-bough  and  grasped  the  law  which  moulds  the  rain- 
drop and  gives  the  planet  its  pathway — or  the  library  where 
Luther  found  the  dusty  volume  which  gave  birth  to  the  Refor- 
mation,  and  emancipated  the  human  mind  from  the  despotism 
of  ages;— how  illustrious  and  hallowed  surely  must  ever  be 
that  mountain-scene  in  Galilee  where  the  Jew  listened  with 
startled  ears  to  the  strange  command,  that  "  Repentance  and 
remission  of  sins  "  were  now  to  be  preached,  in  the  name  of 
Jesus,  "to  all  nations" — that  henceforth  there  was  to  be 
"neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  Barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free" 
— that  the  Angel  of  the  Jewish  Church  had  now  folded  his 
wings,  and  that  "another  Anger'  was  about  to  "fly  in  the 
midst  of  Heaven,  having  the  Everlasting  Gospel,  to  preach  to 
every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people."  * 

What  a  sacred  trust  was  here  confided  to  us  I  Woe 
betide  that  Church  which  neglects  so  hallowed  a  bequest,  and 
selfishly  appropriates  its  spiritual  blessings  without  one  effort 
to  convey  them  to  others. 

If  farewell  words  are  ever  solemn  and  binding  ones,  let 

*  Rev.  xiv.  6. 


THE  FAREWELL.  383 

the  Church  of  Christ  come  to  this  Mountain  of  Galilee,  and 
listen  to  the  parting  command  and  injunction  of  her  Great 
Lord.  Striking  surely,  and  significant  it  was,  that,  ere  He 
ascended,  one  of  His  last  farewell  looks  should  have  been  turned 
towards  the  nations  yet  sitting  in  darkness  ;  that  His  last 
utterances  were  burdened  with  a  solemn  charge  to  the  Church 
of  the  future  to  "go  far  hence  unto  the  Gentiles/'  The  wail- 
ing cry  of  unhappy  Heathendom  was  doubtless,  at  that 
moment,  borne  to  His  ear  from  all  coming  ages.  The  wild 
shriek  that  has  risen  in  our  own  age  may  have  mingled  in 
the  terrible  appeal.  Well  He  knew  that  nothing  would  tame 
savage  hearts  but  the  regenerating  power  of  His  own  blessed 
Gospel ;  and,  therefore,  ere  He  bids  the  world  farewell,  and 
suffers  the  chariot-cloud  to  descend,  he  utters,  with  heathen 
mountain-peaks  in  view,  and  half  heathen  villages  at  his  feet, 
the  ever-memorable  command,  "  Go  and  teach  all  nations, 
baptising  them  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

III.  We  have,  finally,  THE  PARTING  PROMISE. 

The  Saviour's  discourse  is  drawing  to  a  close  ;  a  few  more 
utterances  and  He  will  vanish  from  sight  never  again  to  be 
seen  by  His  Church  on  earth,  till  the  Great  Day  of  His 
appearing. 

Sorrow  was  doubtless  filling  their  hearts  at  the  thought  of 
His  departure,  when  the  most  sacred  and  joyous  of  friendships 
seemed  about  to  be  dissolved  for  ever.  But  by  one  glorious 
promise  He  turns  their  sorrow  into  joy, — "  I  go,"  He  seems  to 
say,  "and  yet  I  will  never  leave  you.  These  heavens  are 
about  to  receive  me,  but  though  my  personal  presence  be 


384  MEMOEIES  OP  GENNESAEET. 

withdrawn, — though  this  Risen  Body  is  soon  to  be  screened 
from  view  behind  the  veiled  glories  of  the  Holiest  of  all, 
think  not  in  reality  my  Presence  is  gone,  '  Lo  !  I  am  with 
you  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world.' >: 

There  is  a  beautiful  connexion  and  contrast  between  the 
first  and  the  last  assertions  of  this  farewell  discourse.  The 
assertion  of  His  unlimited  sovereign  Dominion  was  a  cheer- 
ing and  gladdening  one.  It  was  the  announcement  that 
the  garnered  riches  of  the  Universe  were  in  His  possession, 
and  that  all  these  would  be  used  in  behalf  of  His  people.  He 
seems  in  it  to  take  the  telescope  and  sweep  the  boundless  fir- 
mament of  His  power,  proclaiming  His  kingdom  to  be  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  His  dominion  enduring  throughout 
all  generations.  But  now  is  the  telescope  laid  aside,  and  the 
microscope  is  turned  to  every  atom  of  redeemed  dust !  He 
leaves  the  symbols  of  His  might  in  the  Heavens  above, — His 
regal  sway  over  "thrones,  dominions,  principalities,  powers/' — • 
and  turning  to  each  one  individual  member  of  His  Church  on 
earth,  the  feeblest,  the  poorest,  the  lowliest,  the  most  deso- 
late,— He  says,  Lo  !  I  am  with  YOU  alway,  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world!  The  splendours  of  His  mediatorial  throne 
were  at  that  moment  in  view.  The  harps  of  Heaven  were 
sounding  in  His  ear.  But  He  assures  them,  when  standing 
on  the  very  threshold  of  all  this  glory,  that  His  heart  of  love 
would  still  continue  with  the  Pilgrim  Church  He  was  to  leave 
in  a  Pilgrim  World.  "  All  power  is  given  to  me  in  Heaven  ;  " 
YET,  "  Lo  I  I  am  with  YOU  !  " 

That  farewell  saying  has  lost  none  of  its  comfort.  "  You," 
— that  little  word  embraced  every  one  of  us  ! — You, — 
Jesus  looked  down  the  vista  of  eighteen  centuries,  His  eye, 


THE  FAREWELL.  385 

perhaps,  was  on  some  lone  spirit  now  reading  these  pages  who 
thinks  he  has  been  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  storm,  and  still  He 
says,  "  0  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  art  thou  cast  down? — 
dry  thy  tears,  dispel  thy  misgivings,  '  Lo  !  I  am  with  You  !' " 

Yes,  Blessed  assurance  amid  much  that  is  changing  here  ! 
Heart  and  flesh  do  faint  and  fail !  Often  our  cisterns 
are  scarcely  filled  when  they  break  in  pieces — our  suns  have 
scarce  climbed  the  meridian  when  they  set  in  weeping  clouds  ; 
— our  fondest  schemes  are  blown  upon — our  most  cherished 
gourds  withered.  We  seat  ourselves  in  our  homes,  but  there 
are  blanks  there — vacant  seats  tell  the  too  truthful  tale  of 
severed  links,  and  blighted  hopes,  and  early  graves.  As  age 
creeps  on,  we  look  around  us,  but  the  companions  of  our 
pilgrimage  are  gone — noble  forest  trees,  one  by  one,  have 
bowed  to  the  axe ;  "  the  place  that  once  knew  them,  knows 
them  no  more/'  BUT  there  is  ONE  surviving  the  wreck  and 
ruin  of  all  sublunary  joys,  changeless  among  the  changeable — 
"  Lo  !  I  am  with  you  " — and  "the  wilderness  and  the  solitary 
place"  are  by  that  presence  made  glad  ! 

Amid  sacred  musings  over  departed  friends — when  visions 
of  "  the  loved  and  lost "  come  flitting  before  us  like  shadows 
on  the  wall, — how  often  do  we  indulge  the  pleasing  imagina- 
tion of  their  still  mingling  with  us  in  mysterious  intercourse 
—their  wings  of  light  and  smiles  of  love  hovering  over  us  ; 
delighting  to  frequent  with  us  hallowed  haunts,  and  re- parti- 
cipate with  our  spirits  in  hallowed  joys.  This  may  per- 
chance be  but  a  fond  delusion  regarding  others, — but  it  is 
sublimely  true  regarding  JESUS  !  When  the  gates  of  the 
morning  are  opened,  swifter  than  the  arrowy  light  His  foot- 
step of  love  is  at  our  threshold,  and  His  voice  is  heard  saying, 

2B 


386  MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 

"  Lo  !  I  am  with  you."  When  the  glow  of  health  has  left 
our  cheek,  and  the  dim  night-lamp  casts  its  flickering  gleam 
on  our  pillow,  His  unslumbering  eye  is  watching  us,  and  His 
lips  gently  whisper,  "  Lo  !  I  am  with  you."  When  the 
King  of  Terrors  has  entered  our  dwellings — when  we  are 
seated  amid  the  awful  stillness  of  the  death  chamber,  gazing 
on  the  shroud  which  covers  the  hope  of  our  hearts  and 
the  pride  of  our  lives  ; — oh  !  amid  that  prostration  of  earthly 
hopes, — when  unable  to  glance  one  thought  on  a  dark 
future,  • —  when  the  stricken  spirit,  like  a  wounded  bird, 
lies  struggling  in  the  dust  with  broken  wing  and  wailing 
cry — longing  only  for  pinions  to  flee  away  from  a  weary 
world  to  the  quiet  rest  of  the  grave  ; — in  that  hour  of 
earthly  desolation,  He  who  has  the  Keys  of  death  at  His 
girdle — nay,  who  has  tasted  death  Himself,  and,  better  still, 
who  hath  conquered  it — draws  near  in  touching  tenderness, 
saying,  "  Lo  I  I  am  with  you."  I  will  come  in  the  place  of 
your  loved  ones.  /  am  with  you  to  cheer  you,  to  comfort 
you,  to  support  and  sustain  you.  /,  who  once  wept  at  a 
grave,  am  here  to  weep  with  you — /  will  be  at  your  side  in 
all  that  trying  future — I  will  make  my  grace  sufficient  for 
you,  and  my  promises  precious  to  you,  and  my  love  better 
than  all  earthly  affection.  The  one  is  changeable,  /  am  un- 
changeable— the  one  must  perish,  /  am  the  strength  of  your 
heart  and  your  portion  for  ever  ! 

Mark  the  word  in  this  parting  promise,  "  Lo  I  I  am  with 
you  ALWAY."  In  the  original  it  is  more  expressive  ;  it  means 
"  All  THE  days  "  * — (all  the  appointed  days).  Our  times  are 

ras  ypepas. 


THE  FAREWELL.  387 

in  the  hands  of  Jesus — He  counts  not  our  years,  but  our 
DAYS — and  He  promises  to  be  with  us  every  day  to  the  last 
day  of  all ;  and  when  that  last  day  comes,  He  withdraws  not 
His  Presence  but  changes  the  Scene  of  it,  and  says,  "  TO- 
DAY slmlt  thou  be  with  Me  in  PARADISE/' 

Reader  !  cleave  to  this  glorious  farewell  promise.  Eejoice 
in  Christ's  fidelity  to  it.  Nature  never  belies  her  promises  ; 
we  can  calculate  with  unfailing  accuracy  on  her  unvarying 
sequences.  The  sun  that  sets  to-day  behind  the  western 
hills,  will  rise  to-morrow.  The  trees  which  in  the  waning 
year  are  bared  of  their  foliage,  will  be  clothed  with  verdure 
in  returning  spring.  The  husbandman,  casting  his  seed  in 
the  prepared  furrow,  sees  afar  off  Autumn  with  her  joyous 
sickle  coming  to  bear  the  harvest  treasure  home. 

And  if  the  outer  world  be  thus  scrupulously  truthful  and 
unerring — "He  is  faithful  that  promised,  I  will  never  leave 
you,  nor  forsake  you."  True,  we  may  not,  and  do  not, 
witness,  in  visible  manifestation,  the  Saviour's  power  or 
presence.  But  as  the  mightiest  agencies  in  nature  * — gravita- 
tion, heat,  electricity — are  hidden  and  impalpable,  yet  con- 
stant in  their  influence,  and  stupendous  in  their  effects  ;  so 
it  is  'with  this  ever-present  Saviour.  We  see  Him  not — we 
hear  not  His  voice — we  cannot  touch,  like  the  believing 
suppliant  of  old,  the  hem  of  His  outer  garment.  But  it  is 
the  mission  of  Faith  to  rise  above  the  impalpable  and  in- 
tangible, and  to  hold  converse  with  the  UNSEEN.  The 
Believer,  planting  his  footsteps  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  can  say 
with  triumphant  joy,  "THE  LORD  LIVETH,  and  blessed  be  my 

*  Harris. 


388 


MEMORIES  OF  GENNESARET. 


Rock,  and  let  the  God  of  my  salvation  be  exalted."  Mounting 
with  Paul  on  soaring  pinions,  he  can  challenge  the  Heavens 
above  and  the  Earth  beneath,  legions  of  Angels  and  hosts  of 
devils,  ever  to  separate  him  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus  his  Lord  ! 


WVBRSIT7 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


